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THE OREGON TRAIL 



BY 

FRANCIS PARKMAN 



EDITED FOR USE IN SCHOOLS. WITH AN INTRODUCTION 
AND EXPLANATORY NOTES BY EDWARD E. HALE, Jr. 



NEW YORK 
NEWSON AND COMPANY 









Copyright, 1910, by 
NEWSON & COMPANY 



©Gi.A271031 



PREFATORY NOTE 

In this edition of ''The Oregon Trail" I have wished 
chiefly to give the book its proper place in the general set- 
ting of American life and histor}^ Of course the book may 
always be read by those who are attracted chiefly by the 
striking adventure and the descriptions of out-door life, 
but it is really a book belonging to a certain period of our 
national history, and that a most interesting one. The 
author, too, and his particular subject for study, the In- 
dians, are connected with a larger and equally interesting 
field. So one loses much if he does not read "The Oregon 
Trail" with regard to its associations. The Publishers 
alone are responsible for the text. 

Edward E. Hale, Jr. 

Union College. 



PUBLISHERS' NOTE 

As this edition of Parkman's **The Oregon Trail" was 
prepared for the younger readers and for school use, some 
portions of the original text that are not essential to the 
narrative, as well as some redundant words and phrases, 
have been omitted or slightly modified. It is believed that 
these abridgments will make the volume more acceptable for 
its special purpose than the author's complete earlier ver- 
sion, which has been otherwise followed. 



CONTENTS 

Page 

Prefatory Note iii 

Introduction 

Parkman and His \York ix 

The Explorers of the Oregon Trail xv 

Parkman 's View of the Indians xxiii 

Parkman's Route xxvi 

Additional Reading xxviii 

Suggestions to Teachers xxxi 

Chapter 

I. The Frontier 1 

II. Breaking the Ice 10 

III. Fort Leavenworth 21 

IV. " Jumping Off " 25 

V. The " Big Blue " SG 

VI. The Platte and the Desert 49 

VII. The Buffalo 62 

VIII. Taking French Leave 76 

IX. Scenes at Fort Laramie 91 

X. The War-Parties 105 

XL Scenes at the Camp 127 

XII. Ill-Luck 144 

XIII. Hunting Indians 151 

XIV. The Ogillallah Village 172 

XV. The Hunting Camp 192 

XVI. The Trappers 215 

vii 



viii CONTEXTS 

Chapter Page 

XVII. The Black Hills 225 

XVIII. A Mountain Hunt 229 

XIX. Passage of the Mountains 240 

XX. The Lonely Journey 255 

XXI. The Pueblo and Bent's Fort 274 

XXII. Tete Rouge, the Volunteer 282, 

XXIII. Indian Alarms 287 

XXIV. Down the Arkansas 297 

XXV. The Settlements . . . .. .. .. . . ,. . . 313 



INTRODUCTION 

PARKMAN AND HIS WORK 

The story of Parkman's life is an inspiring one though 
it has little of striking event or interesting incident. It 
has less variety of incident and event than the lives of 
many men for two reasons that at first seem inconsistent, 
and which indeed were hard to harmonize. He was from 
early years earnestly devoted to one purpose, that of writ- 
ing the history of the French in America. But he was 
also, and almost from his first venture in the world, so 
afflicted by disease that he was almost unable to do any of 
his self-appointed work, or, indeed anything else. These 
two reasons combined to make his life uneventful and with- 
out incident. His illness alone would have been enough to 
make his life monotonous, but when his devotion to his lit- 
erary work gave every possible moment and every possible 
effort to that, we see that he could not well have done many 
things else that it would be interesting to chronicle. When 
in college he determined to write a history of the French 
in America and resolved to devote his life to the project. 
This necessitated a thorough knowledge not only of all sorts 
of books and other literary sources, but of the French Cana- 
dians themselves, of the American Indians, and of the vast 
and wonderful country in which the drama of conquest and 
settlement had been played. From this early time of his 
life, to his last years, when he finished the work, he gave 
himself up to preparing for his task and carrying it out. 
One of the most remarkable things about his life is the 
resolute spirit with which, in spite of obstacles that seemed 
insurmountable, he held to his work and finished it. 

Francis Parkman was born in Boston, Sept. 16, 1823, the 

ix 



S THE OREGON TRAIL 

son of Rev. Francis Parkman, a Unitarian clergyman and 
descendant of a long line of Parkmans, going back to the 
beginning of Colonial days. His father was a man of some 
property, so that Francis was well educated at the Chaun- 
cey Hall School and at Harvard where he was graduated 
in the class of 1844. During his youth his love of nature, 
for the woods and fields was cultivated by time spent at 
his grandfather's farm at Medford, near what is now 
called the Middlesex Fells. In college he soon began to 
devote his time chiefly to studies that would be useful to 
him in his chosen field of history, while in his vacations he 
made trips to various parts of the country that he would 
have to write of. In 1841 he made a camping trip through 
the White Mountains, Dixville Notch, and up the Andro- 
scoggin. The next year his excursion was through Lake 
George and Lake Champlain, and thence across the coun- 
try to Connecticut Lake. In 1843 he made a trip to Can- 
ada, and also went to Maine to study the Indians near 
Bangor. In 1844 he went abroad and in 1845 he made a 
trip to St. Louis, coming back by the Great Lakes and that 
part of New York famous in Indian wars. 

It A^as necessary for his purpose that he should know 
the Indian character thoroughly. The French in Canada 
and the AVest were so closely connected with the Indians 
that one could hardly know one without knowing the other. 
In Parkman's time, of course, conditions were widely 
changed even from the days of Montcalm and Wolfe, at 
the very end of his historical period. The Indians were 
no longer to be found east of the Mississippi in their primi- 
tive condition ; they were at best but small groups, isolated 
amidst the civilization of the whites. Parkman studied as 
much as he could in books, and, as we have said, he made 
some studies of the Indians themselves. He desired, how- 
ever, to know more of the Indians in their savage state, 
and with this end in view he arranged the journey of 
which we have the account in ''The Oregon Trail." 

By 1846 Parkman had obtained a knowledge by reading 
and by personal acquaintance of all the Indians left east of 



INTEODLXTION XI 

the Mississippi. It was only in the prairies of the west, 
however, in the Rocky Mountains and beyond, that the 
Indian in his savage state was to be found and Parkman 
resolved to seek him out in his home on the prairie and the 
mountain. With his friend Quincy Adams Shaw, he 
planned the trip of which our text gives the account. The 
name, "Oregon Trail," does not give an idea of the real 
purport of the book. Although he did go on the Oregon 
Trail as far as Fort Laramie, yet it was not with any view 
of Oregon that he went. He made the trip as a part of 
his preparation for writing the history of the Indian in 
America, to study "the manners and customs of Indians in 
their primitive state." In reading tlie book we want to 
remember this as still one of the points of chief importance. 
The book is of interest now in part because it gives us a 
picture of a period in American history that has long since 
passed away, a phase of the western emigration that must 
be interesting to all who like to hear of their country's 
greatness, because it pictures a form of American scenery 
now changed in many respects, and because it gives us 
pictures of the wild life in the open now more than ever 
attractive to American readers. But its chief topic of im- 
portance is the picture of the Indian. 

In order to know the Indian as thoroughly as w^as pos- 
sible, Parkman sought out an Indian village and for several 
weeks almost alone so far as white men were concerned, 
lived in their lodges and saw their life close at hand. He 
attained his object but the cost he paid for it was very 
great. The hardships and exposures of his trip and es- 
pecially of his life with the Indians made serious inroads 
on his health which was not at that time very robust. He 
had had from early days a strong constitution, and had 
carefully trained himself by exercise and exposure to be 
able to carry out the studies in savage life and wild scenery 
that were necessary to his plan. But in this case he went 
too far. As we read the book we shall see how, as he 
went on he began to suffer from a disease that even if 
carefully attended to would have been serious. He was not 



Xll THE OREGON TRAIL 

only unable to give it any attention whatever, but he was 
obliged constantly to live in such a way as to aggravate it. 
An out-door life is in itself good for any ailment, but when 
its necessary conditions are constant wetting and invariable 
eating of meat only, we can easily see that it may be more 
harm than good. 

The two years following "The Oregon Trail" Parkman 
spent in taking care of himself, and trying to regain his lost 
health. In this effort he was unfortmiately not successful. 
Not only did his general health remain poor, but his eye- 
sight became impaired. Still he remained true to his lit- 
erary ambitions. He wrote ''The Oregon Trail" for the 
Knickerbocker Magazine, for which he had already written 
several sketches of Colonial history, and he carried on his 
studies on the conspiracy of Pontiac, that great effort of the 
Indians of the country to unite against the British. He 
included in his book a kind of summary of the French and 
Indian history of a century before. 

At this time (1850) he married Miss Catherine Bigelow. 
The next year, being much helped by his wife and her sister 
who acted as secretary, he published his ' ' Conspiracy of Pon- 
tiac." He also wrote somewhat for the reviews and in 1856 
published a novel named ' ' Vassall Morton. ' ' In these years 
he had three children. In 1857, however, he lost his son, 
and the next year his wife died. As his own health had 
now become seriously impaired, his sister-in-law. Miss Bige- 
low, took his two daughters to her home, while he for the 
moment made another effort to regain his health. He went 
abroad and took the advice of the best authorities he could 
find. They advised him to give up every kind of literary 
work. He had not yet made a beginning on the task he had 
planned, for the ''Pontiac" was only a sort of conclusion 
and summary of the long course of French and Indian his- 
tory which he hoped to write. He was now in a miserable 
condition. His health was apparently ruined, it seemed 
as if he was to be a permanent invalid ; his family life was 
broken up ; and his historical work appeared impossible be- 
fore it was begun. Yet he did not lose courage. Fortu- 



INTRODUCTION XUl 

nately lie was of independent means and was not obliged 
to labor for a mere livelihood; on his estate at Jamaica 
Plain he turned his attention to gardening, especially to 
cultivation of roses and lilies. Being unable to write or 
study he gave up his whole time to this charming occupa- 
tion and became an eminent grower and exhibitor. He not 
only exhibited much and gained many awards, but he be- 
came active in the i\Iassachusetts Horticultural Society, in 
which at a later time he became an officer, serving from 
1871-74 as Vice-President, and from 1875-78 as President. 

In time he was able to continue his historical studies if 
only at the rate of an hour a day or less. It was not till 
1865 that the first volume of his historical series appeared, 
and in the succeeding years he was able to bring out others, 
as follows : — 

1865, ' ' The Pioneers of France in the New AYorld. ' ' 

1867, ''The Jesuits in North America." 

1869, ''La Salle and the Discovery of the Great West." 

1874, "The Old Regime." 

1877, "Count Frontenac and New France under Louis 
XIV." 

In 1884 he published the final book of the series, "Mont- 
calm and Wolfe" in two volumes. This left still untreated 
a considerable period which he was able to fill out in 1892 
with the two volumes of "A Half Century of Conflict," at 
last finishing the task he had set himself in youth. These 
seven parts in nine volumes, tell the story of the French in 
America from the discoveries of Champlain to the death of 
Montcalm on the Plains of Abraham. The work was finally 
and definitely accomplished. From all sorts of sources, 
many of them manuscript, and all kinds of personal knowl- 
edge and information, Parkman created a historical narra- 
tive which has been accepted as authoritative and final. It 
also, however, has characteristics which go far beyond the 
historical ; its imaginative and literary qualities, while they 
are never allowed to impair the historic accuracy, are of the 
highest order; he brings back the life of the past and makes 
it as fascinating as the imagination of the novelist. 



SlV THE OREGON TRAIL 

All this magnificent work was done in the face of almost 
insurmountable difficulties and intolerable trials. He had, 
it is true, almost everything required for his undertaking, 
leisure, money, learning, energy, genius. But he lacked 
one thing, namely his health. Anyone who reads "The 
Oregon Trail" and remembers how he himself feels when 
he is really sick, will wonder at the determination with 
which Parkman sat for hours in the saddle when he could 
not have stood up had he been afoot, and lived in an Indian 
wigwam eating nothing but unsalted meat when he really 
was in condition for a quiet, private room in a hospitak 
This determined spirit he kept up through life. At first he 
could hardly use his mind at all without danger. Later 
conditions improved so that he could read a little and write 
somewhat. But he was never able to give more than two 
hours a day to real work and even that had to be divided 
up into short periods. 

It was only by the use of every possible means that he 
was able to finish his work. He had copies made for him 
of all sorts of manuscripts, whether in this country or 
abroad.^ He had constant help from readers and amanu- 
enses, both secretaries and friends and relatives. But the 
main part of the work was done by his own resolute de- 
termination to finish his work, a determination carried out 
cheerfully and definitely. 

In such a life it was but natural that there should be but 
few events, yet Parkman by no means lived entireh' to him- 
self. We have noted his activity in the ]\Iassaehusetts 
Horticultural Society. More important were his services 
to Harvard College, of which he was an Overseer, 1868-75, 
and afterward Fellow or member of the corporation from 
1875-1888. He kept up a real interest in politics though 
he was never what would be called "active." He became 
a member of various learned societies though he was obliged 
to decline holding office on account of his health. He econo- 
mised his powers and applied them to that particular work 

1 The Massachusetts Historical Society has seventy vohimes of MS. 
sources, given by Parkman. 



INTRODUCTION XV 

which he had judged would be the best thing he could do, 
and thus in spite of immense discouragement, completed it. 
He died Nov. 8, 1893. 

THE EXPLORERS OF THE OREGON TRAIL 

*'The Oregon Trail" takes its name from the great path 
of western emigration in the forties. The name Oregon 
stood for all of the United States north of California and 
west of the Rocky Mountains. .Real emigration to Oregon 
had, at the time of Parkman's book, been going on for a 
few years only, under the impulse of the discussions and 
negotiations with England concerning the Northwest 
Boundary. A few years afterward the great tide of emi- 
gration turned to California under the attraction of the 
gold discovery in 1848. Parkman's trip was just at the 
time that Oregon was the chief object of emigration. The 
Oregon trail left ''the settlements" at Independence, Mo., 
turned first to Fort Leavenworth, now in Kansas, struck 
out for the Platte and followed that river to the junction of 
the North and South branches. Here the trail took the 
North Branch and came to Fort Laramie, of which much 
will be read in the following pages. Parkman followed the 
Oregon Trail no farther ; his object was not emigration but 
a study of Indian life and character, and from Fort Lara- 
mie he struck off into the Black Hills to find an Indian vil- 
lage in which to stay for a time. Afterwards he turned to 
the South and came home on the Santa Fe trail. The 
Oregon trail continued from Fort Laramie up the North 
Branch of the Platte and crossed the Rocky ^Mountains by 
the South Pass in Wyoming. The chief stations after that 
were Fort Hall and Fort Boise and Fort Walla Walla in 
the present state of Washington. The end of the trail was 
the valley of the Willamette and Puget Sound. 

The story of the discovery and exploration and settle- 
ment which gradually formed this great trail across the 
mountains is a most interesting chapter in American his- 
tory. The first settlements in the Northwest were made 



XVI THE OREGON TRAIL 

on the Pacific Coast in the interest of the fur trade, and 
the first settlers came by sea. The settled part of the 
United States in the early days of the nineteenth century 
hardly extended to the Mississippi, and there were few who 
had traveled on the Western prairies, not to mention the 
Kocky Mountains or the Pacific slope. There were even 
those who thought that the United States might as well 
content itself with the Mississippi as a boundary. In 1803, 
however, the purchase of Louisiana which extended to the 
northwest along the Missouri to the Rocky Mountains, led 
to a desire for exploration which took form in the famous 
expedition of Lewis and Clark. In the autumn of 1803 
Capt. Merriwether Lewis and Capt. William Clark, under 
instructions from Jefferson, then president, recruited a 
party of about forty men, and wintered near the mouth of 
the Missouri. In 1804 they went up the Missouri and by 
the next winter had reached the IMandan villaoe north of the 
present city of Bismarck, where they spent the winter, and 
starting the next spring crossed the Rocky Mountains, ex- 
plored the Snake River, and found the Columbia, by which 
they reached the sea. The next spring they returned, reach- 
ing civilization in Sept. 1806. Thus was the Pacific slope 
north of California first explored by the United States. 

This exploration, however, was not at once followed by 
settlement. In 1808 a party was sent out overland by the 
American Fur Co., which had already established Astoria 
at the mouth of the Columbia River by sea. They followed 
the ^Missouri route and in spite of great hardships succeeded 
in reaching the Pacific. The war with England, however, 
put an end to Astoria for the time, and even though at the 
peace it was restored to the United States, the enterprise 
was not immediately continued. 

In spite of this failure, however, the fur traders were 
constantly pushing out to the Northwest, both in the United 
States and in the British Dominions. There was great 
rivalry between the British companies and the American. 
The British trade was practically monopolized by the Hud- 
son's Bay Company which already had flourishing posts on 



INTP.ODLXTIO^ XVii 

the Pacific. In the United States, after the War of 1812 
the trade languished, until in the twenties efforts were made 
by Gen. W. H. Ashley of St. Louis, to reach the Pacific fur 
trade by overland travel. In 1823 he left the Missouri by 
the Eiver Platte, following nearly the same course that 
Parkman 's party took twenty years later. He went up the 
North Branch of the Platte Avhich had not then been ex- 
plored, and in another expedition the next year he crossed 
the mountains by the Southern Pass. He established posts 
and was prosperous for several years. He was followed by 
a number of men whom he had trained to his own intrepid 
vigor in exploring the w^ilderness, especially William 
Sublette, Peter Campbell and — Smith, whose first name 
seems to have dropped out of history. In 1830, these with 
others purchased the interests of Gen. Ashley and formed 
the Rocky Mountain Fur Company. This company every 
spring sent its agents out to a general rendezvous in the 
mountains at w^hich gathered all the trappers and traders 
with their winter's get of peltry. In this way the company 
by its agents and trappers explored the whole mountain 
region and the Pacific slope as well, although their observa- 
tions w^ere, of course, unscientific and their results were 
never regularly published. In 1835 Mr. Robert Campbell 
built a trading post at what was then called Laramie Fork 
which he named Fort William, after his partner, William 
Sublette. The fort was acquired by the American Fur 
Company some years afterwards and was in their hands 
when Parkman visited it. The next year it was sold to the 
United States. 

These two companies sent out their agents all over the 
western country, the Rocky Mountains and the Pacific 
slope, to collect the furs taken by the various trappers. 
Otherwise the country was unsettled and of these trappers 
there were rarely more than a few hundred in all the vast 
region north of the Mexican line, and between the Missouri 
and the Pacific. Their work covered new fields and there- 
fore developed new kinds of workers. The trapper of 
earlier days worked chiefly on the rivers; he was a 



XVlil THE OREGON TRAIL 

voyageuVf to use the Canadian term, and his means of pro- 
gress was the canoe and paddle. The Rocky Mountain 
Company developed the ''mountain man." Washington 
Irving in his ''Captain Bonneville" gives a good account 
of "the traders and trappers that scale the vast moun- 
tain chains and pursue their hazardous vocations amidst 
their arid recesses. They move from place to place on horse- 
back. The equestrian exercises, therefore, in which they 
are engaged, the nature of the country they traverse, vast 
plains and mountains, pure and exhilarating in atmospheric 
qualities, seem to make them physically and mentally a 
more lively and mercurial race than the fur traders 
and trappers of former days, the self-vaunting men of the 
north. A man who bestrides a horse must be essentially 
different from a man who cowers in a canoe. AVe find 
them accordingly hardy, lithe, vigorous and active; ex- 
travagant in word, in thought and deed; heedless of hard- 
ship; daring of danger; prodigal of the present and 
thoughtless of the future. ' ' ^ These trappers were very 
commonly French Canadians by origin. It will be noticed 
in Parkman's narrative that almost all the trappers and 
hunters w^hom he met had French names, beginning with 
Henri Chatillon and Deslauriers of their own party. This 
sprinkling of French mountain men was, of course, the 
result of the old French possession of the country. The 
territory of Louisiana had been bought of the French in 
1803, but the American settlers did not for a long time 
penetrate much beyond the present state of Missouri. But 
the Fren-h had in early times showed themselves well 
adapted to the life of the wilderness, and although they had 
been politically unable to keep the territory which they 
had explored and settled, yet many of them had wandered 
far over the prairies and the mountains, and constituted the 
greater part of the very small white population of the 
region. 

By means of the fur-trading companies and the few 
hundred hunters and trappers who worked for them, the 

1 The Adventures of Captain Bonneville, Chapter I., p. 35. 



INTRODUCTION XIX 

most remote regions of the Rocky ^Mountains and of the 
Pacific slope north of California became known. No real 
settlements, however, were made. There were several trad- 
ing posts like Fort Laramie, but beyond these posts there 
was nothing permanent: there were no American settle- 
ments in Oregon and naturally no emigration to the coun- 
try, and therefore no Oregon trail, though the route up the 
Platte had become well known. 

In 1832 Captain Bonneville crossed the mountains on an 
exploring expedition. He brought with him wagons with 
which he went up the Platte, passed Laramie Creek, went 
on further over the South Pass and down the Colorado : he 
is said to have been the first to carry a train of wagons 
across the mountains. In the course of his journe}^ he fell 
in with Nathaniel Wyeth who was proposing to establish 
a salmon-fishing industry on the Columbia River. 

Wyeth was the first, who, properly speaking, followed the 
Oregon Trail. He was a Cambridge man who planned a 
party to settle in Oregon. They left Independence, Mo., 
with William Sublette who was going to a rendezvous of 
the Rocky IMountain Fur Co. and in Pierre 's Valley ( Colo- 
rado) they fell in with Bonneville. Leaving him, AVyeth 
continued to the northwest and reached first Fort 
"Walla Walla and then Fort Vancouver in the fall. He 
was able to make no settlement, however, and in the spring 
went back to Boston overland. The year after, he led 
another party with greater success: they built Fort Hall 
in eastern Oregon and made a settlement on the coast. 
Although his ventures were unsuccessful, and his posses- 
sions were finally sold out to the Hudson's Bay Company, 
yet Wyeth is an interesting figure to the reader of "The 
Oregon Trail." "He it was," says H. H. Bancroft,^ 
"more directly than any other man, that marked the way 
for the ox teams which were so shortly to bring the 
Americanized civilization of Europe across the roadless con- 
tinent. ' ' 

In 1839 there were enough settlers in Oregon to petition 

1 History of the Northwest Coast, II., 598. 



XX THE OREGON TRAIL 

Congress to extend the jurisdiction of the United States 
over that district, and Jn the year following there were so 
many that McLoughlin, chief factor of the Hudson Bay 
Company at Vancouver, wrote to the English government 
that if they wished to keep Oregon they must settle it. 
By that time another interest had turned American emigra- 
tion to the Northwest. In AA^yeth's expedition of 1834, 
went five missionaries sent by the Methodist Church in 
answer to calls that had come from the Indians on the 
Pacific slope, for teaching in the white man's religion. 
They reached Fort Vancouver, and determined to settle in 
the Willamette Valley in what is now Oregon. A ship had 
been sent around to meet them laden with useful stores. 
Other parties were sent out by sea in 1837, so that by 1838 
there was a considerable number in the Willamette Valley, 
where there was already something of a settlement of old 
employees of the Hudson Bay Company. In that 3^ear 
Jason Lee returned overland to the States to stir up further 
interest in Oregon. He presented a memorial to Congress 
signed by thirty-six settlers, showing the small but real 
beginnings of what are now great commonwealths. In 1840 
he brought back another party of missionaries and settlers 
which more than doubled the little settlement in the 
AA'illamette Valley. By this time other religious bodies had 
joined in the work, interested by the reports of Rev. 
Samuel Parker ^ and more particularly of Rev. Marcus 
Whitman. AVhitman established a mission station at AVail- 
ipaka, near the present AValla Walla. These missionaries 
w^ere not only preachers of the gospel; they were, and had 
to be, practical men and women who could clear the forest, 
plough the land, build their houses, and do all that was 
necessary to support life in the wilderness. The British 
sent only fur traders to Oregon; the United States sent 
men who were bent on settling down and living there, that 
they might make Oregon a Christian country. 

In spite of the labors of the missionaries there was a 

1 who published an account of " An Exploring Tour beyond the 
Rocky Mountains." Ithaca, N. Y., 1838. 



INTIiODUCTION xxi 

feeling in the home boards that their work was not 
sufficiently productive to warrant its cost. Fearing lest the 
missions might be recalled or at least that their support 
might be curtailed, and full of the idea that Oregon must be 
colonized for the United States, AVhitman started back to 
the East. He crossed the continent in winter, and suc- 
ceeded at once in restoring confidence and arousing interest. 
There was already a spirit of emigration to Oregon, and in 
1843 fully a thousand emigrants crossed the continent and 
reached the Columbia. 

At this point the political conditions became important. 
The Oregon country was claimed both by the United States- 
and by Great Britain. The Mexican possessions ended with 
the northern line of California : Kussian America came 
down to 54° 40'. The intermediate country, which had 
been discovered and explored by the United States and 
Great Britain, had for several years been occupied jointly 
by both, pending a settlement of the boundary. The 
boundary between the United States and the British posses- 
sions east of the Eocky Mountains had been settled at the 
49th parallel, and in 1825, President Adams had made an 
oifer of this line west of the Rockies to the Pacific. Great 
Britain, however, claimed the line of the Columbia, and 
had occupied the territory for many years, though only by 
trading settlements of the Hudson Bay Company. The 
United States, since its offer of the 49th parallel had not 
been accepted, was inclined to claim all the coast up to 54° 
40'. At this time with all the interest in the work of fur 
trades, missionary, and settlers, the question found its way 
into politics. The next year w^as the year of a presidential 
campaign and the Democratic Party came before the 
country with Polk as a candidate, and Oregon and Texas 
as a policy. Then arose the campaign cry of "Fift^'-four 
Forty or fight. "1 

By Parkman's time, however, the matter had been more 
sensibly settled. Popular excitement had simmered down : 

1 1, e., that the United States should run north to Russian 
America. 



XXll THE ORE G OX TRAIL 

it was quite obvious that Great Britain would never give 
up the whole coast to tne line of 54° 40' and the American 
people really had no desire to fight over the matter. 
Early in 1846, the year of Parkman's tour, Lord Aberdeen 
had offered on the part of Great Britain, the line of the 
49th parallel to the Strait of Juan de Fuca, and thence 
the middle of the Strait to the Sea. The United States 
accepted the offer and the treaty was signed in June 
while Parkman was on the prairie. Long before this, how- 
ever, emigration had begun in earnest and Parkman's 
narrative gives us many pictures of the emigrants and 
the emigrant trains. It was still chiefly to Oregon, though 
a few chose the southern attractions of California, which 
was still in the possession of IMexico. 

This condition of things was changing while Parkman 
was on the prairie and we see in the book several indications 
of the events which were taking place. In the spring of 
1846 the desire of the United States for Texas, brought on 
war with IMexico. In May of that year Taylor crossed the 
Rio Grande and later Scott led an invading army from 
Yera Cruz. These matters had no close connections with 
the Rocky Mountains or the Far West. But Mexico had 
possessions to the north. Santa Fe, in what is now New 
Mexico, was well-known on the American frontier and for a 
long time trading parties had left Independence on the 
Santa Fe trail. The route was better known, more traveled 
and shorter than the way to Oregon. It was resolved to 
send a military expedition against New Mexico and Colonel 
Kearney, whom Parkman found at Fort Leavenworth, was 
ordered to take command of it. By the end of July he 
had concentrated a little army of 1800 men at Bent's Fort. 
Some were regulars and some were volunteers, the First 
]\Iissouri volunteers were led by A. W. Doniphan, who is 
mentioned in our text. The expedition started from Bent 's 
Fort where the Santa Fe trail crossed the Arkansas river, 
and reached Santa Fe by August 18th. They met with no 
resistance and easily occupied the town. From Santa Fe 
Kearney proceeded with a small body to California, while 



IXTPvODUCTION xxiii 

Doniphan later led his regiment to the south and captured 
the to^\Tl of Chihuahua. The further history of the ex- 
pedition has no relation with our particular study: the 
war with Mexico ended with the acquisition bj^ the United 
States of a large territory. With the settlement of the 
Oregon question and the new territory gained by the war 
the whole western country was open to settlement by the 
United States. At just this point came the discovery of 
gold in California. Parkman's book came just before the 
gold craze and is an excellent point in which to concentrate 
these historic lines of American explorations and settle- 
ment. 

parkman's view op the INDIAN. 

One of the most interesting things in '^The Oregon 
Trail" is Parkman's picture of the Indians. It was to 
gain a knowledge at first hand of the Indian in his savage 
state that Parkman made the expedition. The Dahcotahs 
of that day were in a state no more civilized than w^ere 
the Indians who w^ere important in his historical studies. 
^'The Ogillallah," he writes (p. 102), ''are thorough 
savages, unchanged by any contact with civilization," and 
elsewhere (p. 172), ''These people were thorough savages. 
Neither their manners nor their ideas were in the slightest 
degree modified by contact with civilization." And al- 
though it was not these western Dahcotahs who were im- 
portant in his history, yet he felt assured, as he says (p. 
172), that the same picture that he here draws, slightly 
changed in shade and coloring, would serve with very few 
exceptions for all the tribes north of the Mexican terri- 
tories. It is the picture of the Indian that we see in 
"The Oregon Trail" that Parkman held true as the figure 
of the Indian in general. It is not hard to gain a general 
notion of his idea.^ 

1 Any student who may like to do this at first hand should look 
over the book, extracting every separate statement about the In- 
dians, or else making a sufficient note of it. He should then arrange 
these remarks or extracts under different topics that may occur to 



XXIV THE OREGON rRAIL 

It will be easily seen that Parkman gives us, first of all, 
a brilliant and picturesque view of the Indian from the 
outside. The warrior and his squaw, his children, his 
horses, his dogs; the order of his village and its arrange- 
ment both when the tribe is traveling and when the lodges 
are set up ; his occupation in hunting and traveling and in 
living at home, his costume, his pursuits, his domestic ways 
and household customs, these are described for us by one 
who had a great gift in the art of description and who 
afterwards became a master. The picture is not absolutely 
realistic nor probably did Parkman mean that it should be. 
It omits of necessity many circumstances and customs. 
But it gives us quite enough to enable us to form an ex- 
cellent idea of the external life of the Indian. 

But more important than this pictorial view of the 
Indian is the conception of Indian character that we may 
gain. Parkman nowhere gives us a complete generaliza- 
tion; that was hardly in accord with his manner of work- 
ing. But in one remark after another he tells us enough 
of the Indian to give us a very definite notion of what he 
thought of them. In the first place he expresses the uni- 
versal view, the view that has become commonplace, that 
the Indian is brave in war and dignified in council; that 
the men at their best are fine-looking and the women, at 
least when young, pleasant in appearance and hard work- 
ing. But passing by such commonly understood charac- 
teristics, Parkman 's view is in general most unfavorable. 
He appears to have liked the Indian but to have seen little 
good in him. With some good qualities the Indian had 
little, to his mind, with which a white man could sympathize 
(p. 243) ; he sometimes looked at them in vain (p. 293), 
to detect a single good trait in the general jealousy, sus- 
picion and malignant cunning that distinguished them. 
Such good qualities as they have are generally balanced by 
some bad quality. If they are brave, with their own 

him as he looks them over. Finally he should group them togetlier 
and look up each point to see whether the impression gained by the 
first survey is confirmed. 



INTRODUCTION XXV 

peculiar bravery, they are as ferocious as a wild beast. If 
they are hospitable and generous in gift, yet they always 
expect something in return, and are quite capable of killing 
their guest the next time they see him (p. 134). We could 
note many characteristics in detail, but most of Park- 
man's observations can be summarized under the idea that 
the Indian, like many uncivilized peoples, has many traits 
which may be noticed in children of civilized races, which 
the civilized child learns to overcome only by education. 
Thus the Indian is fickle and inconstant in his plans (p. 
113), unbalanced and unable to arrive at a sensible decision, 
passionate and unable to hold to a purpose (p. 131), unable 
to give up personal wishes in order to act together (p. 
181), a prey to the emotion of the moment whether the 
excitement of the chase, or a meaningless despondency (p. 
212), curious about all sorts of minor matters, but mentally 
inert and content to receive the facts of life without ex- 
planation (p. 94). Children in civilized countries often 
have these characteristics but they get rid of them as a rule 
by education, and by contact with a world managed on 
very different principles. The Indian does not ; his world 
is managed on these very principles : he is an individualist 
from beginning to end, with certain common superstitions 
and tribal conditions, and he suffers all the drawbacks of 
an exaggerated and unintelligent individualism. He has, 
however, in addition to these characteristics, some which 
civilization is apt to lack; he is treacherous, revengeful, 
and jealous; he has little idea of honor and generosity, of 
unselfishness and self-sacrifice. True he is generally fond 
of his children, and he is sometimes devoted to his friends 
(p. 236). But in the main, the higher range of the emo- 
tions which to us make life something worth while, are 
lacking with him. Religion, love, patriotism, the things 
for which we live, are not in his life ; he has no comprehen- 
sion of the feelings which they inspire. 

One who studies the subject will be interested to compare 
what Parkman says on the Indian in our text and what he 
says in ' ' The Conspiracy of Pontiac ' ' the book that he had 



xxvi THE OREGON TRAIL 

in mind in this trip.^ In the first chapter of that work 
he gives a sketch of the Indian tribes of America, east of 
the Mississippi and gives a generalization or resume of the 
Indian character. It will be seen that the character is not 
essentially different from that which may be gathered here 
of the Western tribes. Much the same view will be gained ; 
a view, it may be said, very different from that of Cooper 
who was writing at about this time, and whose works w^ere 
favorites with Parkman. 

parkman's route 

One will hardly read ''The Oregon Trail" with in- 
telligence without wanting to know something of the 
country over which Parkman traveled. This great stretch 
of country between the Missouri and the Rocky Mountains, 
now settled into rich and prosperous states, was, in Park- 
man's day, hardly more than sixty years ago, an absolute 
waste, inhabited only by the Indian and the fur traders, 
the bison and the wolf. Our book is one of the early views 
of the prairie, the desert, and the mountains. It is by no 
means the first of such views, but in its descriptions of the 
rolling plains and the hills and bluffs, of the sudden ravines 
and the wooded river hollows, the unending desert and the 
broad and shallow rivers, it is one of the most vivid and 
best. 

The route that Parkman pursued was first along the 
Oregon Trail, from Independence to Fort Laramie. Here 
the party left the emigrant trail and went a little way south 
on Laramie Creek, looking for an Indian tribe. This camp 
they left shortly and turned northward, looking for an 
Indian rendezvous, supposed to be somewhere on the 
north Branch of the Platte, west of Fort Laramie. Xhey 
went in this direction as far as La Bonte Creek, then, not 
finding the Indians, they separated, and Parkman, still 
searching for the Indians went south on the eastern slope 
of the Black Hills, not the mountains of Dakota now so 

1 One of his horses he named Pontiac. 



INTIIODUCTION xxvil 

called, but a range in eastern Wyoming. He passed 
through these mountains going westward, and found the 
Indians on Laramie plain. He stayed with them for a 
while and then returned to Fort Laramie. In their home- 
ward journey they first went almost south on the eastern 
slope of the Rockies to Pueblo and returned thence to the 
settlements by the Santa Fe Trail, which followed the 
Arkansas River to Pa^^Tlee Forks and then struck across the 
prairie to Independence, the town in Missouri from which 
they had started. 

Their course can, in a general way, be traced upon any 
good map of the country, but the best map for our especial 
purpose is that which accompanies the "Report of 
Fremont's First and Second Expedition" published in 
1845. Fremont went over almost all the ground that 
Parkman did only four years before the excursion of the 
"Oregon Trail," and Parkman and Shaw certainly had 
his report before them in arranging their trip. The ad- 
vantage of using a map made at about the time of the trip 
is not only that it presents the country much as Parkman 
found it, but it gives the names which Parkman uses. 
Thus the Black Hills w^ill be found in Fremont's map, 
just where topography shows they must have been in 
Parkman 's experience, while a later map would not show 
the name he used. A map like that of Fremont has also 
the advantage that it shows only the places that were of 
interest in Parkman 's day, while a modern map is full 
of other details. If one wants to study the matter very 
accurately, the maps of the United States Geological 
Survey will show a good deal of the country covered.^ 
Though the names vary somewhat, yet one can follow ac- 
curately the lay of the land. 

The following is a rough itinerary: the dates given are 

1 The Hartville sheet, Wyoming, shows Fort Laramie and the 
vicinity, but the Black Hills and Laramie Plains have not been 
mapped. The route from Fort Leavenworth to Fort Laramie has 
been mostly surveyed and published. These maps may be had for 
five cents a sheet on application to the Director, United States Geo- 
logical Survey, Washington, D. C. 



xxviii THE OREGON TRAIL 

only approximately correct; for Parkman is not always 
particular to give dates or exact statements, and when he 
does he is not always accurate, as on pp. 25 and 49. 

ROUTE 

April 28, 1846. Leave St. Louis by steamer. 

May 9. Land at Kansas Landing, go to Westport, and 
thence to Fort Leavenworth. 

May 23. Leave the Kickapoo Village near Fort Leaven- 
worth, and shortly strike the Oregon Trail. 

May 28. Reach the Platte, and proceed along the South 
bank, crossing the South Fork, and passing Scott's Bluff, 
reach Fort Laramie June 14. 

June 20. Set out to meet the '^ Whirlwind, " and en- 
camp on the South bank of Laramie Creek, beyond Chug- 
water Creek. 

July 1. Break camp and start for La Bonte Creek 
which they reach in three days. 

July 6. Parkman goes south with Raymond, reaches 
Laramie Creek, and goes west through the Black Hills to 
Laramie Plains. 

July 10 to August 2. Stays with Indians; on August 
2, returns to Fort Laramie. 

August 4. Leave Fort Laramie going south; reach the 
Pueblo August 22. 

August 24. Leave the Pueblo for Bent's Fort. 

August 27. Leave Bent's Fort and by the Arkansas 
River, Cow Creek, Little Arkansas and Council Grove, 
get to Westport, whence they reach St. Louis by boat about 
October 1st. 

ADDITIONAL READING 

For those who have some little interest in the phases of 
American life, scenery, and history suggested by ''The 
Oregon Trail," the book opens up a rich and interesting 
literature of western travel and exploration in the pioneer 
days of western civilization. We will note a few of the 
best known books, which deal with the earlier explora- 



INTRODUCTION XXIX 

tion of our western country, and which will be found to 
illustrate "The Oregon T^ail/' sometimes directly and 
sometimes at no very great remove. 

1. Lewis and Clarke. History of the Expedition . . . 
across the Rocky Mountain ... to the Pacific Ocean. 
Philadelphia 1814. There are many later editions. This 
is the classic account of the first expedition across the 
continent. The expedition, however, went far to the north 
of the Oregon Trail. 

2. Stephen H. Long. An Account of an Expedition 
from Pittsburgh to the Rocky Mountains, undertaken by 
order of the Secretary of War. Washington 1823. 
Major Long followed the same route as Parkman at first 
but held to the South Branch of the Platte instead of the 
North. 

3. J. C. Fremont. Report of the Exploring Epedition 
to the Rocky Mountains in the year 1842. Washington 
1845. This account was published the year before Park- 
man and Shaw went out. They followed Fremont's route 
pretty closely on the way out, do^\ai to the Pueblo, and as 
far as Bent's Fort, so that his map illustrates their trip 
excellently. 

4. Washington Irving. A Tour on the Prairies. Pub- 
lished in Crayon Miscellany 1835. In 1832 Irving made a 
tour of the prairies with a United States expedition which 
.accompanied the commissioners charged with settling some 
vof the Indian tribes on their lands west of the Mississippi. 

The ground he went over, however, was to the south of 
Parkman 's outward course. 

5. Washington Irving. Astoria ; or Anecdotes of an En- 
terprise beyond the Rocky Mountains. Originally pub- 
lished in 1836. This history of the early American fur 
trade carries one a little abroad, but the book is an inter- 
esting one. 

6. Washington Irving. The Adventures of Captain 
Bonneville in the Rocky Mountains and the Far West. 
Originally published in 1837. This also is an interesting 
book though commonly thought to be a little romantic. A 



XXX THE OREGON TKAII, 

little reading will show that it is sonifwhat different from 
the realism of Parkman. 

7. George Catlin. Letters and Notes on the Manners, 
Customs and Condition of the North American Indians. 
New York 1841. This book published only a few years 
before "The Oregon Trail," gives the very best contem- 
porary picture of the Indian. Catlin saw more of the 
Mandans and the Northern Indians that he did of the 
Dahcotahs, but still his pictures serve admirably to illus- 
trate Parkman 's accounts. 

8. James Fenimore Cooper. The Prairie. Originally 
published in 1827. The scene of this, the last of the 
Leatherstocking Tales is laid on the prairie between the 
Platte and the Rocky Mountains. The scenery and local 
color, however, is vague, for it would seem that Cooper had 
depended for his knowledge chiefly upon books. 

For the historic facts concerning the settlement of Oregon 
and the Oregon Trail the student may refer to the follow- 
ing: 

9. Robert Greenhow. The History of Oregon and Cali- 
fornia, 2nd edition, 1845. This book published at the time 
of the discussion of the Oregon boundary contains the 
most careful statement of the case for the United States. 
In chapter XVII will be found the explorations and settle- 
ments between 1823 and 1844. 

10. H. H. Bancroft. History of the Northwest Coast, 
San Francisco, 1886. Studied from a great mass of origi- 
nal authorities otherwise not available. 

11. E. S. Meany. History of the State of Washington, 
New York, 1909. The beginning gives an excellent account 
of the chief settlements and explorations. 

12. G. P. Garrison. Westward Extension, Vol. 17 of 
The American Nation : A History. An excellent account 
with good maps. 

13. F. J. Turner. The Rise of the New West, Vol. 14, 
of the same series. Good but does not contain quite so 
much on our subject. 



INTRODUCTION xxxi 

14. Charles H. Farnham. A Life of Francis Parkham, 
Boston, 1901. A very just account by a man who knew 
Parkman well. 

SUGGESTIONS TO TEACHERS 

''The Oregon Trail" will hardly be used for minute 
study. To read the book with understanding and in- 
terest, to get a good idea of the country covered and 
to enter into the spirit of the adventurous life, to ap- 
preciate the scenes of that long past life of fur trader 
and Indian, to gain a clear View of the place of these 
things in the history of one's country, to appreciate the 
power of the author and his resolute effort against all 
discouragement, these would seem to be the chief aims of 
the student, rather than any more especial knowledge of 
style or of structure. To accomplish these ends the teacher 
may find the f oUoAving means useful : 

1. Follow the route carefully on a map. 

2. Make particular note of the general and the par- 
ticular phases of scenerj^; the prairie, the desert, the 
mountain, and note Parkman 's view of each. 

3. Note what particular forms and phases of scenery 
appealed most to his interest; for instance, what does he 
mention most or describe best ? 

4. Mark any mention of the people he met, the Indians, 
the emigrants, the fur traders, the trappers. How does 
he represent each ? 

5. Note especially the occupations of life, the buffalo- 
hunting, the camping at night, the ride during the day. 

Material of this kind may be used in different ways 
according to the method of work of the teacher, either 
orally in the recitation, or in essays written and handed 
in. But, however used, such w^ork will give the student 
that familiarity with the book which is one of the objects 
of study, and joined to a study of the matters suggested 
elsewhere in the Introduction should do much to make 
him appreciate thoroughly its interest and its place in 
literature. 



THE OREGON TRAIL 



CHAPTER I 

THE FRONTIER 

LxVST spring, 1846,^ was a busy season in the city of St. 
Louis. Not only were emigrants from every part of 
the country preparing for the journey to Oregon and 
California, but an unusual number of traders were mak- 
ing ready their wagons and outfits for Santa Fe.- Many 
of the emigrants were persons of wealth and standing. 
The hotels were crowded, and the gunsmiths and saddlers 
■were kept constantly at work in providing arms and 
equipments for the different parties of travelers. Almost 
every day steamboats ^ were leaving the levee * and passing 
up the Missouri, crowded with passengers on their way to 
the frontier. 

In one of these, the ' ' Radnor, ' ' since snagged ^ and lost, 
my friend and relative, Quincy Adams Shaw, and myself, 
left St. Louis on the 28th of April, on a tour of curiosity 
and amusement to the Rocky Mountains. The boat was 

1 "The Oregon Trail" was first published in the "Knickerbocker 
Magazine," beginning Feb., 1847, and running rather more than a 
year. 

- Those for Oregon and those for Santa Fe separated at West- 
port: as will be seen, Parkman went out on the Oregon trail and 
came back on the Santa Fe trail. 

3 Steamboats had been used on the Missouri for some time : in 
1832 the "Yellowstone" went up for the first time as far as the 
mouth of the Yellowstone River. 

* An embankment to prevent the river's overflowing. 

5 Snags were trees which had been undermined by the falling 
banks. They would get caught in the bottom of the river and as 
they pointed down stream they were a great danger to boats going up. 

1 



^ THE OREGON TRAII 

loaded until the water broke alternately over her guards. 
Her upper-deck was covered with large wagons of a pe- 
culiar form, for the Santa Fe trade, and her hold was 
crammed with goods for the same destination. There 
were also the equipments and provisions of a party of 
Oregon emigrants, a band of mules and horses, piles of 
articles of various kinds, indispensable on the prairies. 
Almost hidden in this medley one might have seen a small 
French cart, of the sort very appropriately called a "mule- 
killer," beyond the frontiers, and not far distant a tent, 
together with a miscellaneous assortment of boxes and bar- 
rels. The whole equipage was far from prepossessing in 
its appearance; yet, such as it was, it was destined to a 
long and arduous journey on which the persevering reader 
will accompany it. 

The passengers on board the "Radnor" corresponded 
with her freight. In her cabin were Santa Fe traders, 
gamblers, speculators, and adventurers of various de- 
scriptions, and her steerage was crowded with Oregon 
emigrants, "mountain men,"^ negroes, and a party of 
Kanzas Indians, who had been on a visit to St. Louis. 

Thus laden, the boat struggled upward for seven or 
eight days against the rapid current of the Missouri, 
grating upon snags, and hanging for two or three hours 
at a time upon sand-bars. We entered the mouth of the 
Missouri in a drizzling rain, but the weather soon became 
clear and showed distinctly the broad and turbid river, 
with its eddies, its sand-bars, its ragged islands and forest- 
covered shores. The Missouri is constantly changing its 
course; wearing away its banks on one side, while it 
forms new ones on the other. Its channel is continually 
shifting. Islands are formed, and then washed awaj^ 
and while the old forests on one side are undermined 
and swept off, a young growth springs up from the new 
soil upon the other. With all these changes, the water 
is so charged with mud and sand that, at times, it is 
perfectly opaque, and in a few minutes deposits a sedi- 

6 Rocky mountain trappers. 



THE FRONTIER 3 

ment an inch thick in the bottom of a tumbler. The 
river was now high; but when we descended in the au- 
tumn it was fallen very low, and all the secrets of its 
treacherous shalloAvs were exposed to view. It was fright- 
ful to see the dead and broken trees, thick-set as a mili- 
tary abattis,'^ firmh^ imbedded in the sand, and all pointing 
down stream, ready to impale any unhappy steamboat 
that at high water should pass over that dangerous ground. 
In five or six days we began to see signs of the great 
western movement that was taking place. Parties of 
emigrants, with their tents and wagons, were encamped 
on open spots near the bank, on their way to the common 
rendezvous at Independence.^ On a rainy day, near sun- 
set, we reached the landing of this place, which is some 
miles from the river, on the extreme frontier of IMissouri. 
The scene was characteristic, for here were represented 
at one view the most remarkable features of this wild and 
enterprising region. On the muddy shore stood some 
thirty or forty dark slavish-looking Spaniards, gazing 
stupidly out from beneath their broad hats. They were 
attached to one of the Santa Fe companies, whose wagons 
were crowded together on the banks above. In the midst 
of these, crouching over a smouldering fire, was a group 
of Indians, belonging to a remote Mexican tribe. One or 
two French hunters ^ from the mountains, with their long 
hair and buckskin dresses, were looking at the boat; and 
seated on a log close at hand were three men, with rifles 
lying across their knees. The foremost of these, a tall, 
strong figure, with a clear blue eye and an open, intelli- 
gent face, might very well represent that race of restless 
and intrepid pioneers whose axes and rifles have opened 
a path from the Alleghenies to the western prairies. He 
was on his way to Oregon, probably a more congenial 

7 An obstruction made of fallen trees set with their branches 
sharpened toward 'the enemy. 

8 A town in Missouri about fifteen miles east of the present Kansas 
City. 

9 For the French hunters and trappers, see Introduction, p. xviii. 



4 THE OREGON TRAIL 

field to him than any that now remained on this side of 
the great plains.^*^ 

Early the next morning we reached Kanzas/^ about 
five hundred miles from the mouth of the Missouri. Here 
we landed, and leaving our equipments in charge of Colo- 
nel Chick, whose log-house was the substitute for a tavern, 
we set out in a wagon for Westport,^- where we hoped 
to procure mules and horses for the journey. 

It was a remarkably fresh and beautiful May morning. 
The rich and luxuriant woods, through which the miserable 
road conducted us, w^ere lighted by the bright sunshine 
and enlivened by a multitude of birds. We overtook on 
the way our late fellow-travelers, the Kanzas Indians, who, 
adorned with all their finery, were proceeding homeward at 
a round pace; and whatever they might have seemed on 
board the boat, they made a very striking and picturesque 
feature in the forest landscape. 

Westport was full of Indians, whose little shaggy 
ponies were tied by dozens along the houses and fences. 
Sacs and Foxes,^^ with shaved heads and painted faces, 
Shawanoes ^* and Delawares,^^ fluttering in calico frocks 
and turbans, Wyandots ^^' dressed like white men, and a few 
wretched Kanzas ^^ wrapped in old blankets, were strolling 
about the streets, or lounging in and out of the shops and 
houses. 

As I stood at the door of the tavern, I saw a remark- 
able-looking personage coming up the street. He had a 

10 Parkman notices later that the backwoodsman was not at home 
on the prairie. See p. 100. 

11 The present Kansas City. 

12 About five miles south of Kansas City. 

13 At one time a considerable tribe. They fought with the United 
States in the Black Hawk war and were removed beyond the Mis- 
sissippi. 

I'i More commonly called the Shawmees. They had been prominent 
in Tecumseh's wars. 

15 Originally a large Eastern tribe. 

16 Otherwise called Hurons. Originally a Canadian tribe. 

17 A tribe of Indians of whom a good deal is said in the pages 
following. 



THE FRONTIER 5 

ruddy face, garnished with the stumps of a bristly red 
beard and moustache; on one side of his head was a round 
cap with a knob at the top, such as Scottish laborers 
sometimes wear; his coat was of a nondescript form, 
and made of a gray Scotch plaid, with the fringes hang- 
ing all about it ; he wore trousers of coarse homespun, 
and hob-nailed shoes; and to complete his equipment, a 
little black pipe was stuck in one corner of his mouth. In 

this curious attire, I recognized Captain C , of the 

British army, who, with his brother, and Mr. R , an 

English gentleman, was bound on a hunting expedition 
across the continent. I had seen the captain and his 
companions at St. Louis. They had now been for some 
time at Westport, making preparations for their depart- 
ure, and waiting for a reinforcement, since they were 
too few in number to attempt it alone. They might, it 
is true, have joined some of the parties of emigrants who 
were on the point of setting out for Oregon and Cali- 
fornia; but they professed great disinclination to have 
any connection with the ' ' Kentucky fellows. ' ' 

The captain now urged it upon us, that we should join 
forces and proceed to the mountains in company. Feel- 
ing no greater partiality for the society of the emigrants 
than they did, we thought the arrangement would be an 
advantage to us, and consented to it. Our future fellow- 
travelers had installed themselves in a little log-house, 
where we found them surrounded by saddles, harness, guns, 
pistols, telescopes, knives, and in short their complete ap- 
pointments for the prairie. R , who professed a taste 

for natural history, sat at a table stuffing a woodpecker ; the 
brother of the captain, who was an Irishman, was splicing 
a trail-rope on the floor, as he had been an amateur sailor. 
The captain pointed out, with much complacency, the dif- 
ferent articles of their outfit. "You see," said he, "that 
we are all old travelers. I am convinced that no party 
ever went upon the prairie better provided." The hunter 
whom they had employed, a surly-looking Canadian, named 
Sorel, and their muleteer, an American from St. Louis, 



6 THE OREGON TRAIL 

were lounging about the building. In a little log stable 
close at hand were their horses and mules, selected by the 
captain, who was an excellent judge. 

We left them to complete their arrangements, while we 
pushed our own to all convenient speed. The emigrants, 
for whom our friends professed such contempt, were 
encamped on the prairie about eight or ten miles distant, 
to the number of a thousand or more, and new parties 
were constantly passing out from Independence to join 
them. They were in great confusion, holding meetings, 
passing resolutions, and drawing up regulations, but 
unable to unite in the choice of leaders to conduct them 
across the prairie. Being at leisure one day, I rode over 
to Independence. The town was crowded. A multitude 
of shops had sprung up to furnish the emigrants and 
Santa Fe traders with necessaries for their journey; and 
there was an incessant hammering and banging from a 
dozen blacksmiths' sheds, where the heavy wagons were 
being repaired, and the horses and oxen shod. The 
streets were thronged with men, horses, and mules. 
While I was in the town, a train of emigrant Vv^agons 
from Illinois passed through, to join the camp on the 
prairie, and stopped in the principal street. A multi- 
tude of healthy children's faces were peeping out from 
under the covers of the wagons. Here and there a 
buxom damsel was seated on horseback, holding over her 
sunburnt face an old umbrella or a parasol, once gaudy 
enough, but now miserably faded. The men, very sober- 
looking countrymen, stood about their oxen; and as I 
passed I noticed three old fellows, who, with their long 
whips in their hands, were zealously discussing the doc- 
trine of regeneration. The emigrants, however, are not 
all of this stamp. Among them are som.e of the vilest 
outcasts in the country. I have often perplexed myself 
to divine the various motives that give impulse to this 
migration; but whatever they may be, whether an insane 
hope of a better condition in life, or a desire of shaking 
off restraints of law and society, or mere restlessness, 



THE FRONTIER 7 

certain it is, that multitudes bitterly repent the journey, 
and, after they have reached the land of promise, are 
happy enough to escape from it. 

In the course of seven or eight days we had brought 
our preparations nearly to a close. IMeanwhile our friends 
had completed theirs, and, becoming tired of Westport, 
they told us that they would set out in advance, and wait 
at the crossing of the Kanzas till we should come up. 

Accordingly R and the muleteer went forward with 

the wagon and tent, while the captain and his brother, 
together with Sorel, and a trapper named Boisverd, who 
had joined them followed with the band of horses. The 
commencement of the journey was ominous, for the cap- 
tain was scarcely a mile from Westport, riding along in 
state at the head of his party, leading his intended buffalo 
horse b}^ a rope, when a tremendous thunder-storm came 
on and drenched them all to the skin. They hurried on to 

reach the place, about seven miles off, where R was 

to have had the camp in readiness to receive them. But 
this prudent person, when he saw the storm approaching, 
had selected a sheltered glade in the woods where he 
pitched his tent, and was sipping a comfortable cup of 
coffee while the captain galloped for miles beyond through 
the rain to look for him. At length the storm cleared 
away, and the sharp-eyed trapper succeeded in discovering 

his tent; R had by this time finished his coffee, and 

was seated on a buffalo-robe smoking his pipe. The cap- 
tain was one of the most easy-tempered men in existence, 
so he bore his ill-luck with great composure, shared the 
dregs of the coffee with his brother, and lay down to 
sleep in his wet clothes. 

We ourselves had our share of the deluge. We were 
leading a pair of mules to Kanzas when the storm broke. 
Such sharp and incessant flashes of lightning, such stun- 
ning and continuous thunder I had never known before. 
The woods were completely obscured by the diagonal 
sheets of rain that fell with a heavy roar, and rose in 
spray from the ground, and the streams rose so rapidly 



8 THE OREGON TRAIL 

that we could hardly ford them. At length, looming 
through the rain, we saw the log-house of Colonel Chick 
who received us with his usual bland hospitality; while 
his wife, who, though a little soured and stiffened by a 
too frequent attendance on camp meeting, was not behind 
him in hospitable feeling, supplied us with the means of 
improving our drenched and bedraggled condition. The 
storm clearing away at about sunset opened a noble pros- 
pect from the porch of the colonel's house, which stands 
upon a high hill. The sun streamed from the breaking 
clouds upon the swift and angry JMissouri, and on the 
immense expanse of luxuriant forest that stretched from 
its banks to the distant bluffs. 

Returning on the next day to Westport we received a 
message from the captain, who had ridden back to deliver 
it in person, but finding that we were in Kanzas, had 
intrusted it with an acquaintance of his named Vogel, 
who kept a small grocery and liquor shop. Whiskey, by 
the way, circulates more freely in Westport than is alto- 
gether safe in a place where every man carries a loaded 
pistol in his pocket. As we passed this establishment 
we saw Vogel's broad German face and knavish looking 
eyes thrust from his door. He said he had something to 
tell us, and invited us to take a dram. Neither his liquor 
nor his message were very palatable. The captain had re- 
turned to give us notice that R , who assumed the 

direction of his party, had selected another route from that 
agreed upon; and instead of taking the course of the 
traders, had decided to pass northward by Fort Leaven- 
worth/^ and follow the path marked out by the dragoons 
in their expedition of last summer.^'' To adopt such a 
plan without consulting us, we looked upon as a high- 
handed proceeding; but suppressing our dissatisfaction as 
well as we could, we made up our minds to join them at 
Fort Leavenworth, where they were to wait for us. 

Accordingly, our preparations being now complete, we 

18 For a description of Fort Leavenworth, see p. 21. 

19 See p. 25, 



THE FRONTIER 9 

attempted one fine morning to begin our journey. The 
first step was an unfortunate one. No sooner were our 
animals put in harness than the shaft-mule reared and 
plunged, burst ropes and straps, and nearly flung the cart 
into the Missouri. Finding her wholly uncontrollable, we 
exchanged her for another, with which we were furnished 
by our friend Mr. Boone, of Westport, a grandson of 
Daniel Boone, the pioneer. -° This foretaste of prairie 
experience was very soon followed by another. Westport 
was scarcely out of sight when we encountered a deep 
muddy gully, of a species that afterAvard became but too 
familiar to us, and here for the space of an hour or more 
the cart stuck fast. 

-0 One of the most famous of American pioneers. He began the 
exploration and settlement of Kentucky, and in his old age moved 
to Missouri. 



CHAPTER II 

BREAKING THE ICE 

Emerging from the mud-holes of Westport, we pursued 
our way for some time along the narrow track, in the 
checkered sunshine and shadow of the woods, till at length, 
issuing into the broad light, we left behind us the farthest 
outskirts of the great forest/ that once spread from the 
western plains to the shore of the Atlantic. Looking over 
an intervening belt of shrubbery, we saw the green, ocean- 
like expanse of prairie. 

It was a mild, calm spring day; a day when one is 
more disposed to musing and reverie than to action, and 
the softest part of his nature is apt to gain the ascendancy. 
I rode in advance of the party, as we passed through the 
bushes, and, as a nook of green grass offered a strong 
temptation, I dismounted and lay down there. All the 
trees and saplings were in flower, or budding into fresh 
leaf; the red clusters of the maple-blossoms and the rich 
flowers of the Indian apple were there in profusion; and 
I was half inclined to regret leaving behind the land of 
gardens, for the rude and stern scenes of the prairie and 
the mountains. 

Meanwhile the party came in sight out of the bushes. 
Foremost rode Henry Chatillon,- our guide and hunter, 
a fine athletic figure, mounted on a hardy gray Wyandot 
pony. He wore a white blanket-coat, a broad hat of felt, 
moccasins, and trousers of deer-skin, ornamented along 
the seams with rows of long fringes. His knife was stuck 

iTo the west, as far as the Rocky roountahis, all is plain and 
prairie, with few trees except in the river valleys. 

2 Parkman had the hij^hest opinion of his guide, as will be seen 
in other references to him. 

10 



BREAKING THE ICE 11 

in his belt; his bullet-pouch and powder-horn hung at his 
side, and his rifle lay before him, resting against the high 
pommel of his saddle, which, like all his equipments, had 
seen hard service, and was much the worse for w^ear. 
Shaw followed close, mounted on a little sorrel horse, 
and leading a larger animal by a rope. His outfit, which 
resembled mine, had been provided with a view to use 
rather than ornament. It consisted of a plain black 
Spanish saddle, with holsters of heavy pistols, a blanket 
rolled up behind, and the trail-rope attached to his horse's 
neck hanging coiled in front. He carried a double-bar- 
relled smooth-bore, while I had a rifle of some fifteen 
pounds weight. At that time our attire, though far from 
elegant, bore some marks of civilization, and offered a 
very favorable contrast to the inimitable shabbiness of 
our appearance on the return journey. A red flannel 
shirt, belted around the waist like a frock, then consti- 
tuted our upper garment; moccasins had supplanted our 
failing boots; and the remaining essential portion of. our 
attire consisted of an extraordinary article, manufactured 
by a squaw out of smoked buckskin. Our muleteer, Des- 
lauriers, brought up the rear with his cart, wading ankle- 
deep in the mud, alternately puffing at his pipe, and ejac- 
ulating in his prairie patois, ^'Sacre enfant de garce!'\ 
as one of the mules would seem to recoil before some 
abyss of unusual profundity. The cart w^as of the kind 
that one may see by scores around the market-place at 
Quebec, and had a white covering to protect the articles 
within. These were our provisions and a tent, with am- 
munition, blankets, and presents for the Indians. 

We were in all, four men with eight animals; for be- 
sides the spare horses led by Shaw and myself, an addi- 
tional mule was driven along with us as a reserve in 
case of accident. 

After this summing up of our forces, it may not be 
amiss to glance at the characters of the two men who 
accompanied us. 

Deslauriers was a Canadian, with all the characteristics 



12 THE OREGON TRAIL 

of the true Jean Baptiste.^ Neither fatigue, exposure, nor 
hard labor could ever impair his cheerfulness and gayety, 
or his politeness to his bourgeois;'^ and when night came, 
he would sit down by the fire, smoke his pipe, and tell 
stories with the utmost contentment. The prairie was 
his element. Henry Chatillon was of a different stamp. 
When we were at St. Louis, several gentlemen of the 
Fur Company ^ had kindly offered to procure for us a 
hunter and guide suited for our purposes, and on coming 
one afternoon to the office, we found there a tall and 
exceedingly well-dressed man, with a face so open and 
frank that it attracted our notice at once. We were 
surprised at being told that it was he who wished to guide 
us to the mountains. He was born in a little French 
town near St. Louis, and from the age of fifteen years had 
been constantly in the neighborhood of the Rocky Moun- 
tains, employed for the most part by the company, to sup- 
ply their forts with buffalo meat. As a hunter, he had 
but one rival in the whole region, a man named Simoneau, 
with whom, to the honor of both of them he was on 
terms of the closest friendship. He had arrived at St. 
Louis the day before from the mountains, where he had 
been for four years; and he now asked only to go and 
spend a day with his mother, before setting out on an- 
other expedition. His age was about thirty; he was six 
feet high, and very powerfully and gracefully moulded. 
The prairies had been his school; he could neither read 
nor write, but he had a natural refinement and delicacy 
of mind, such as is rare even in women. His manly face 
was a mirror of uprightness, simplicity, and kindness of 
heart; he had, moreover, a keen perception of character, 
and a tact that would preserve him from flagrant error in 
any society. Henry had not the restless energy of an 

3 A common name in Lower Canada. 

4 ( Boor-zhwa ) leader or employer, or, as Parkman says else- 
where, the "boss." 

5 Probably the American Fur Co. See the Introduction, p. xvi. 



BREAKING THE ICE 13 

Anglo-American. He Avas content to take things as he 
found them; and his chief fault arose from an excess of 
eas}^ generosity that led him to give away too profusely to 
thrive in the world. Yet it was commonly remarked of him, 
that whatever he might choose to do w4th what belonged to 
himself, the property of others was always safe in his hands. 
His bravery was as much celebrated in the mountains as his 
skill in hunting; but it is characteristic of him that 
in a country w-here the rifle is the chief arbiter between 
man and man, he was very seldom involved in quarrels. 
Once or twice, indeed, his quiet good nature had been 
mistaken and presumed upon, but the consequences of 
the error were so formidable, that no one w^as ever known to 
repeat it. No better evidence of the intrepidity of his 
temper could be wished, than the common report that he 
had killed more than thirty grizzly bears. He was a 
proof of what unaided nature will sometimes do. I have 
never, in the city or in the wilderness, met a better man 
than my true-hearted friend, Henry Chatillon. 

We were soon free of the woods and bushes, and fairly 
upon the broad prairie. Now and then a Shawanoe 
passed us, riding his little shaggy pony at a ''lope;" his 
calico shirt, his gaudy sash, and the gay handkerchief 
bound around his snaky hair, fluttering in the wind. At 
noon we stopped to rest not far from a little creek, replete 
with frogs and young turtles. There had been an Indian 
encampment at the place, and the framework of the 
lodges still remained, enabling us very easily to gain a 
shelter from the sun, by merely spreading one or two 
blankets over them. Thus shaded, w^e sat upon our sad- 
dles, and Shaw for the first time lighted his favorite 
Indian pipe; while Deslauriers w-as squatted over a hot 
bed of coals, shading his eyes with one hand, and hold- 
ing a little stick in the other, with which he regulated 
the hissing contents of the frying-pan. The horses were 
turned to feed among the scattered bushes of a low oozy 
meadow. A drowsy spring-like sultriness pervaded the 



14 THE OREGON TRAIL 

air, and the voices of ten thousand young frogs and 
insects, just awakened into life, rose in varied chorus 
from the creek and the meadows. 

Scarcely were we seated when a visitor approached. 
This w^as an old Kanzas Indian; a man of distinction, if 
one might judge from his dress. His head was shaved 
and painted red, and from the tuft of hair remaining on 
the crown dangled several eagle's feathers, and the tails 
of two or three rattlesnakes. His cheeks, too, were daubed 
with vermilion; his ears were adorned with green glass 
pendants; a collar of grizzly bears' claws surrounded his 
neck, and several large necklaces of wampum hung on his 
breast. Having shaken us by the hand with a grunt of 
salutation, the old man, dropping his red blanket from 
his shoulders, sat down cross-legged on the ground. We 
offered him a cup of sweetened water, at which he ejacu- 
lated ' ' Good ! ' ' and was beginning to tell us how great a 
man he was, and how many Pawnees ® he had killed, when 
suddenly a motley concourse appeared wading across the 
creek toward us. They filed past in rapid succession, 
men, women and children: some were on horseback, some 
on foot, but all were alike squalid and wretched. Old 
squaws, mounted astride of shaggy, meagre little ponies, 
with perhaps one or two snake-eyed children seated be- 
hind them, clinging to their tattered blankets; tall lank 
young men on foot, with bows and arrows in their hands ; 
and girls whose native ugliness not all the charms of glass 
beads and scarlet cloth could disguise, made up the pro- 
cession; although here and there was a man who, like our 
visitor, seemed to hold some rank in this respectable com- 
munity. They were the dregs of the Kanzas nation, who, 
while their betters were gone to hunt the buffalo, had left 
the village on a begging expedition to W.estport. 

When this ragamuffin horde had passed, we caught 
our horses, saddled, harnessed, and resumed our journey. 
Fording the creek, the low roofs of a number of rude 

6 A warlike and marauding tribe of prairie Indians. We hear 
of theni again pp. 53, 56. 



BREAKING THE ICE 15 

buildings appeared, rising from a cluster of groves and 
woods on the left; and riding up through a long lane 
amid a profusion of wild roses and early spring flowers, 
we found the log-church and school-houses belonging to 
the Methodist Shawanoe Mission. The Indians were on 
the point of gathering to a religious meeting. Some 
scores of them, tall men in half-civilized dress, were 
seated on wooden benches under the trees; while their 
horses were tied to the sheds and fences. Their chief, 
Parks, a remarkably large and athletic man, had just 
arrived from Westport, where he owns a trading estab- 
lishment. Beside this, he has a large farm and a con- 
siderable number of slaves.'^ Indeed the Shawanoes have 
made greater progress in agriculture than any other tribe 
on the Missouri frontier; and both in appearance and in 
character form a marked contrast to our late acquaintance, 
the Kanzas. 

A few hours' ride brought us to the banks of the river 
Kanzas. Traversing the woods that lined it, and plough- 
ing through the deep sand, we encamped not far from the 
bank, at the Lower Delaware crossing. Our tent was 
erected for the first time, on a meadow close to the woods, 
and the camp preparations being complete, we began to 
think of supper. An old Delaware woman, of some three 
hundred pounds weight, sat in the porch of a little log- 
house, close to the water, and a very pretty half-breed 
girl was engaged, under her superintendence, in feeding 
a large flock of turkeys that were fluttering and gobbling 
about the door. But no offers of money, or even of to- 
bacco, could induce her to part with one of her favorites; 
so I took my rifle, to see if the woods or the river could 
furnish us any thing. A multitude of quails were plain- 
tively whistling in the meadows; but nothing appropriate 
to the rifle was to be seen, except three buzzarcls, seated 
on the spectral limbs of an old dead sycamore, that thrust 
itself out over the river from the dense sunny wall of fresh 

7 Westport was in Missouri, then a slave state. 



16 THE OREGON TRAIL 

foliage. Their ugly heads were drawn down between 
their shoulders, and they seemed to luxuriate in the soft 
sunshine that was pouring from the west. As they offered 
no epicurean temptations, I refrained from disturbing 
their enjoyment; but contented myself with admiring 
the calm beauty of the sunset, — for the river, eddying 
swiftly in deep purple shadows between the impending 
woods, formed a wild but tranquilizing scene. 

"When I returned to the camp, I found Shaw and an 
old Indian seated on the ground in close conference, pass- 
ing the pipe between them. The old man was explain- 
ing that he loved the whites, and had an especial partiality 
for tobacco. Deslauriers was arranging upon the ground 
our service of tin cups and plates; and as other viands 
were not to be had, he set before us a repast of biscuit 
and bacon, and a large pot of coffee. Unsheathing our 
knives, we attacked it, disposed of the greater part, and 
tossed the residue to the Indian. Meanwhile our horses, 
now hobbled ^ for the first time, stood among the trees, 
with their fore-legs tied together, in great disgust and 
astonishment. They seem by no means to relish this fore- 
taste of what was before them. Mine, especially, had con- 
ceived a mortal aversion to the prairie life. One of them, 
christened Hendrick, an animal whose strength and hardi- 
hood were his only merits, and who yielded to nothing but 
the cogent arguments of the whip, looked toward us with 
an indignant countenance, as if he meditated avenging 
his wrongs with a kick. The other, Pontiac, a good horse, 
though of plebeian lineage, stood with his head drooping 
and his mane hanging about his eyes, with the grieved 
and sulky air of a lubberly boy sent off to school. Poor 
Pontiac ! his forebodings were but too just ; for when I last 
heard from him, he was under the lash of an Ogillallah ^ 
brave, on a war party against the Crows. ^^ 

8 The usual way of securing horses on the prairie was to tie their 
feet loosely together. 

9 The tribe of Sioux with whom Parkman spent some time. 

10 A warlike tribe of Indians of the mountains. 



BREAKING THE ICE 17 

As it grew dark and the voices of the whippoorwills 
succeeded the whistle of the quails, we removed our saddles 
to the tent to serve as pillows, spread our blankets upon 
the ground, and prepared to bivouac for the first time 
that season. Each man selected the place in the tent 
which he was to occupy for the journey. To Deslauriers, 
however, was assigned the cart into which he could creep 
in wet weather, and find a much better shelter than his 
hourgeois enjoyed in the tent. 

The river Kanzas at this point forms the boundary line 
between the country of the Shawanoes and that of the 
Delawares. ^Ye crossed it on the following day, rafting 
over our horses and equipments with much difficulty, and 
unlading our cart in order to make our way up the steep 
ascent on the farther bank. It was a Sunday morning; 
warm, tranquil and bright; and a perfect stillness reigned 
over the rough inclosures and neglected fields of the 
Delawares, except the ceaseless hum and chirruping of 
myriads of insects. Now and then an Indian rode past 
on his way to the meeting-house, or, through the dilapi- 
dated entrance of some shattered log-house, an old woman 
might be discerned enjoying all the luxury of idleness. 
There was no village bell, for the Delawares have none; 
and yet upon that forlorn and rude settlement was the. 
same spirit of Sabbath repose and tranquillity as in some 
New England village among the mountains of New 
Hampshire, or the Vermont woods. 

A military road led from this point to Fort Leaven- 
worth, and for many miles the farms and cabins of the 
Delawares were scattered at short intervals on either 
hand. The little rude structures of logs erected usually 
on the borders of a tract of woods made a picturesque 
feature in the landscape. But the soenery needed no 
foreign aid. Nature had done enough for it; and the 
alternation of rich green prairies and groves that stood 
in clusters, or lined the banks of the numerous little streams, 
had all the softened and polished beauty of a region that 
has been for centuries under the hand of man. At that 



18 THE OREGON TRAIL 

early season, too, it was in the height of its freshness. 
The woods were flushed with the red buds of the maple; 
there were frequent flowering shrubs unknown in the 
east; and the green swells of the prairie were thickly 
studded with blossoms. 

Encamping near a spring, by the side of a hill, we re- 
sumed our journey in the morning, and early in the after- 
noon arrived within a few miles of Fort Leavenworth. The 
road crossed a stream densely bordered with trees, and 
running in the bottom of a deep woody hollow. AYe were 
about to descend into it when a wild and confused proces- 
sion appeared, passing through the water below, and com- 
ing up the steep ascent towards us. We stopped to let 
them pass. They were Delawares, just returned from a 
hunting expedition. All, both men and women, were 
mounted on horseback, and drove along with them a con- 
siderable number of pack-mules, laden with the furs they 
had taken, together with the buffalo-robes, kettles, and 
other articles of their travelling equipment, which, as well 
as their clothing and their weapons, had a worn and 
dingy aspect, as if they had seen hard service of late. At 
the rear of the party was an old man, who, as he came up, 
stopped his horse to speak to us. He rode a tough, shaggy 
pony, with mane and tail well knotted with burs, and a 
rusty Spanish bit in his mouth, to which, by way of reins, 
was attached a string of raw hide. His saddle, robbed 
probably from a IMexican, had no covering, being merely 
a tree of the Spanish form, with a piece of grizzly bear's 
skin laid over it, a pair of rude wooden stirrups attached, 
and, in the absence of girth, a thong of hide passing around 
the horse's belly. The rider's dark features and keen,, 
snaky eye were unequivocally Indian. He wore a buck- 
skin frock, which, like his fringed leggings, was well 
polished and blackened by grease and long service, and an 
old handkerchief was tied around his head. Resting on 
the saddle before him lay his rifle, a weapon in the use 
of which the Delawares are skilful, though, from its weight,, 
the distant prairie Indians are too lazy to carry it. 



BREAKING THE ICE 19 

''Who's your chief?" he immediately inquired. 

Henry Chatillon pointed to us. The old Delaware fixed 
his eyes intently upon us for a moment, and then senten- 
tiously remarked, — 

' ' No good ! Too young ! ' ' With this flattering comment 
he left us and rode after his people. 

This tribe, the Delawares, once the peaceful allies ^^ of 
William Penn, the tributaries of the conquering Iroquois, 
are now the most adventurous and dreaded warriors upon 
the prairies. They make war upon remote tribes, the 
very names of which were unknown to their fathers in 
their ancient seats in Pennsj^lvania, and they push these 
new quarrels with true Indian rancor, sending out their 
war-parties as far as the Rocky Mountains, and into the 
Mexican territories. Their neighbors and former confed- 
erates, the Shawanoes, who are tolerable farmers, are in 
a prosperous condition ; but the Delawares dwindle every 
year, from the number of men lost in their warlike ex- 
peditions. 

Soon after leaving this party we saw, stretching on the 
right, the forests that follow the course of the Missouri, 
and the deep woody channel through which at this point 
it runs. At a distance in front were the white barracks 
of Fort Leavenworth, just visible through the trees upon 
an eminence above a bend of the river. A wide green 
meadow, as level as a lake, lay between us and the Mis- 
souri, and upon this, close to a line of trees that bordered 
a little brook, stood the tent of the Captain and his com- 
panions, with their horses feeding around it; but they 
themselves were invisible. Wright, their muleteer, was 
there, seated on the tongue of the wagon, repairing his 
harness. Boisverd stood cleaning his rifle at the door of 
the tent, and Sorel lounged idly about. On closer exam- 
ination, however, we discovered the Captain's brother, 
Jack, sitting in the tent, at his old occupation of splicing 
trail-ropes. He welcomed us in his broad Irish brogue, 

11 They had been reduced to the condition of women by the Iro- 
quois, as Parkman shows in his " Conspiracy of Pontiac." 



20 THE OREGON TRAIL 

and said that his brother was fishing in the river, and 

R gone to the garrison. They returned before sunset. 

Meanwhile we pitched our own tent not far off, and after 
supper a council was held, in which it was resolved to re- 
main one day at Fort Leavenworth, and on the next to 
bid a final adieu to the frontier, or, in the phraseology of 
the region, to "jump off." Our deliberations were con- 
ducted by the ruddy light from a distant swell of the 
prairie where the long dry grass of last summer was on 
iire. 



CHAPTER III 

FORT LEAVENWORTH 

On the next morning we rode to Fort Leavenworth. 
Colonel, now General Kearney/ to whom I had had the 
honor of an introduction when at St. Louis, was just 
arrived, and received us at his quarters with the high-bred 
courtesy habitual to him. Fort Leavenworth is in fact no 
fort, being without defensive works, except two block- 
houses. No rumors of war - had as yet disturbed its tran- 
quillity. In the square grassy area, surrounded by barracks 
and the quarters of the officers, the men were passing and 
repassing, or loimging among the trees ; although not many 
weeks afterwards it presented a different scene; for here 
the offscourings of the frontier were congregated to be 
marshalled for the expedition against Santa Fe.^ 

Passing through the garrison, we rode toward the 
Kickapoo * village, five or six miles beyond. The path, a 
rather dubious and uncertain one, led us along the ridge 
of high bluffs that border the Missouri; and, by looking 
to the right or to the left, we could enjoy a strange con- 
trast of scenery. On the left stretched the prairie, rising 
into swells and undulations thickly sprinkled with groves, 
or gracefully expanding into wide grassy basins, of miles 
in extent; while its curvatures, swelling against the hori- 
zon, were often surmounted by lines of sunny woods ; a 
scene to which the freshness of the season and the peculiar 
mellowness of the atmosphere gave additional softness. 

1 Stephen W. Kearney, a brave soldier of 1812. 

2 The Mexican war broke out May 8th of this same year, but the 
news had not yet reached so distant a spot. 

3 See Introduction, p. xxii. 

4 An Indian tribe formerly of the Ohio valley. 

21 



22 THE OKEGON TRAIL 

Below lis, on the right, was a tract of ragged and broken 
woods. We could look down on the summits of the trees, 
some living and some dead; some erect, others leaning at 
every angle, and others piled in masses together by the 
passage of a hurricane. Beyond their extreme verge the 
turbid waters of the Missouri were discernible through 
the boughs, rolling powerfully along at the foot of the 
woody declivities on its farther bank. 

The path soon after led inland; and, as we crossed an 
open meadow, we saw a cluster of buildings on a rising 
ground before us, with a crowd of people surrounding 
them. They were the storehouse, cottage, and stables of 
the Kickapoo trader's establishment. Just at that mo- 
ment, as it chanced, he was beset with half the Indians 
of the settlement. They had tied their wretched, neg- 
lected little ponies by dozens along the fences and out- 
houses, and were either lounging about the place, or 
crowding into the trading-house. Here were faces of 
various colors: red, green, white, and black, curiously 
intermingled and disposed over the visage in a variety of 
patterns. Calico shirts, red and blue blankets, brass ear- 
rings, wampum necklaces, appeared in profusion. The 
trader was a blue-eyed, open-faced man, who neither in 
his manners nor his appearance betrayed any of the rough- 
ness of the frontier; though just at present he was obliged 
to keep a lynx eye on his customers, who, men and women, 
were climbing on his counter, and seating themselves 
among his boxes and bales. 

The village itself was not far off, and sufficiently illus- 
trated the condition of its unfortunate and self-abandoned 
occupants. Fancy to yourself a little swift stream, work- 
ing its devious way down a woody valley; sometimes 
wholly hidden under logs and fallen trees, sometimes issuing 
forth and spreading into a broad, clear pool; and on its 
banks, in little nooks cleared away among the trees, minia- 
ture log-houses, in utter ruin and neglect. A labyrinth of 
narrow, obstructed paths connected these habitations one 
with another. Sometimes we met a stray calf, a pig, or a 



FORT LEAVENWORTH 23 

pony, belonging to some of the villagers, who usually lay in 
the sun in front of their dwellings, and looked on us with 
cold, suspicious eyes as w^e approached. Farther on, in 
place of the log-huts of the Kickapoos, we found the pukivi 
lodges of their neighbors, the Pottawattamies,^ whose con- 
dition seemed no better than theirs. 

Growing tired at last, and exhausted by the excessive 
heat and sultriness of the day, w^e returned to our friend, 
the trader. By this time the crowd around him had dis- 
persed, and left him at leisure. He invited us to his 
cottage, a little white-and-green building, in the style of 
the old French settlements; and ushered us into a neat, 
well-furnished room. The blinds were closed, and the 
heat and glare of the sun excluded; the room w^as as cool 
as a cavern. It was neatly carpeted, too, and. furnished 
in a manner that we hardly expected on the frontier. The 
sofas, chairs, tables, and a well-filled bookcase, would not 
have disgraced an eastern city; though there Avere one or 
two little tokens that indicated the rather questionable 
civilization of the region. A pistol, loaded and capped, 
lay on the mantel-piece ; and through the glass of the book- 
ease, peeping above the works of John Milton, glittered 
the handle of a very mischievous-looking knife. 

Our host went out, and returned with iced w^ater, 
glasses, and a bottle of excellent claret, — a refreshment 
most welcome in the extreme heat of the day; and soon 
after appeared a merry, laughing woman, who must have 
heen, a year or tw^o before, a very rich specimen of Creole 
beauty. She came to say that lunch was ready in the 
next room. Our hostess evidently lived on the sunny side 
of life, and troubled herself with none of its cares. She 
sat down and entertained us while we were at table with 
anecdotes of fishing-parties, frolics, and the officers at the 
fort. Taking leave at length of the hospitable trader and 
his friend, we rode back to the garrison. 

Shaw passed on to the camp, while I remained to call 
upon Colonel Kearney. I found him still at table. There 

5 Originally a Michigan tribe. 



24 THE OREGON TRAIL 

sat our friend the Captain, in the same remarkable habili- 
ments in which we saw him at Westport; the black pipe, 
however, being for the present laid aside. He dangled 
his little cap in his hand, and talked of steeple-chases, 
touching occasionally upon his anticipated exploits in 

buffalo-hunting. There, too, was R , somewhat more 

elegantly attired. For the last time, we tasted the luxu- 
ries of civilization, and drank adieus to it in wine good 
enough to make us regret the leave-taking. Then, mount- 
ing, we rode together to the camp, where every thing was 
in readiness for departure on the morrow. 



CHAPTER IV 

''jumping off'' 

Our English companions had a wagon drawn by six 
mules, and crammed with provisions for six months, and 
ammunition enough for a regiment; spare rifles and 
fowling-pieces, ropes and harness, personal baggage, and a 
miscellaneous assortment of articles, which produced infi- 
nite embarrassment. They had also decorated their per- 
sons with telescopes and portable compasses, and carried 
English double-barrelled rifles of sixteen to the pound 
calibre, slung to their saddles in dragoon fashion. 

By sunrise on the twenty-third of May we had break- 
fasted; the tents were levelled, the animals saddled and 
harnessed, and all was prepared. ^^Avance done! get 
up!" cried Deslauriers. Wright, our friends' muleteer, 
after some swearing and lashing, got his insubordinate 
train in motion, and then the whole party filed from the 
ground. Thus we bade a long adieu to bed and board, 
and the principles of Blackstone's Commentaries.^ The 
.day was a most auspicious one; and yet Shaw and I felt 
certain misgivings, which in the sequel proved but too 

well founded. We had just learned that though R 

had taken it upon him to adopt this course without con- 
sulting us, not a single man in the party was acquainted 
with it; and the absurdity of our friend's high-handed 
measure soon became manifest. His plan was to strike the 
trail of several companies of dragoons, who last summer 
had made an expedition under Colonel Kearney to Fort 

1 Parkman had just finished his course at the Harvard Law 
School. 

25 



26 THE OREGON TRAIL 

Laramie, and by this means to reach the grand trail of the 
Oregon emigrants up the Platte. ^ 

We rode for an hour or two, when a familiar cluster of 
buildings appeared on a little hill. ''Hallo!" shouted the 
Kickapoo trader from over his fence, ''where are you go- 
ing?" A few rather emphatic exclamations might have 
been heard among us, when we found that we had gone 
miles out of our way, and were not advanced an inch 
toward the Rocky Mountains. So we turned in the direc- 
tion the trader indicated; and with the sun for a guide, 
began to trace a "bee-line" across the prairies. We 
struggled through copses and lines of wood; we waded 
brooks and pools of water; we traversed prairies as green 
as an emerald, expanding before us mile after mile, wider 
and more wild than the wastes Mazeppa rode over. 

" Man nor brute, 
Nor dint of hoof, nor print of foot, 
Lay in the wild luxuriant soil; 
No sign of travel; none of toil; 
The very air was mute." 3 

Riding in advance, as we passed over one of these great 
plains, we looked back and saw the line of scattered horse- 
men stretching for a mile or more; and, far in the rear, 
against the horizon, the white wagons creeping slowly 
along. "Here we are at last!" shouted the Captain. 
And, in truth, we had struck upon the traces of a large 
body of horse. We turned joyfully and followed this new 
course, w^ith tempers somewhat improved ; and towards 
sunset encamped on a high swell of the prairie, at the foot 
of which a lazy stream soaked along through clumps of 
rank grass. It was getting dark. We turned the horses 
loose to feed. "Drive down the tent-pickets hard," said 

2 Fort Leavenworth is somewhat south of the Platte River. R. 
meant to take a short cut and to strike the river at some distance 
west of the Missouri. 

3 The quotation is from Byron's " Mazeppa." Parkman was fond 
of Byron as we shall see on p. 254. 



" JUMPING OFF " 27 

Henry Chatillon, *'it is going to blow." We did so, and 
secured the tent as well as we could; for the sky had 
changed totally, and a fresh damp smell in the wind 
warned us that a stormy night was likely to succeed the 
hot, clear day. The prairie also wore a new aspect, and its 
vast swells had grown black and sombre under the shadow 
of the clouds. The thunder soon began to growl at a dis- 
tance. Picketing and hobbling the horses among the rich 
grass at the foot of the slope where we encamped, we 
gained a shelter just as the rain began to fall; and sat at 
the opening of the tent, watching the proceedings of the 
Captain. In defiance of the rain, he was stalking among 
the horses, wrapped in an old Scotch plaid. An extreme 
solicitude tormented him, lest some of his favorites should 
escape, or some accident should befall them ; and he cast an 
anxious eye towards three wolves who were sneaking along 
over the dreary surface of the plain, as if he dreaded some 
hostile demonstration on their part. 

On the next morning we had gone but a mile or two 
when we came to an extensive belt of woods, through the 
midst of which ran a stream, wide, deep, and of an appear- 
ance particularly muddy and treacherous. Deslauriers 
was in advance with his cart ; he jerked his pipe from his 
mouth, lashed his mules and poured forth a volley of 
Canadian ejaculations. In plunged the cart, but midwa/ 
it stuck fast. He leaped out knee-deep in water, and, 
by dint of sacres and a vigorous application of the whip, 
urged the mules out of the slough. Then approached the 
long team and heavy wagons of our friends ; but it paused 
on the brink. 

"Now my advice is," — began the Captain, who had 
been anxiously contemplating the muddy gulf. 

*' Drive on!" cried R . 

But Wright, the muleteer, apparently had not as yet 
decided the point in his own mind; and he sat still in his 
seat, on one of the shaft-mules, whistling in a low con- 
templative strain to himself. 



28 THE OREGON TRAIL 

''My advice is," resumed the Captain, ''that we un- 
load; for I'll bet any man five pounds that if we try to 
go through we shall stick fast." 

"By the powers, we shall stick fast!" echoed Jack, 
the Captain's brother, shaking his large head with an air 
of firm conviction. 

"Drive on! drive on!" cried R , petulantly. 

"Well," observed the Captain, turning to us as we sat 
looking on, much edified by this by-play among our con- 
federates, ' ' I can only give my advice, and if people won 't 
be reasonable, why they won't, that's all!" 

Meanwhile Wright had apparently made up his mind; 
for he suddenly began to shout forth a volley of oaths 
and curses, that, compared with the French imprecations 
of Deslauriers, sounded like the roaring of heavy cannon 
after the popping and sputtering of a bunch of Chinese 
crackers. At the same time he discharged a shower of 
blows upon his mules, who hastily dived into the mud, 
and drew the wagon lumbering after them. For a mo- 
ment the issue was dubious. Wright writhed about in 
his saddle, and swore and lashed like a madman; but who 
can count on a team of half -broken mules? At the most 
critical point, when all should have been harmony and 
combined effort, the perverse brutes fell into disorder, and 
huddled together in confusion on the farther bank. There 
was the wagon up to the hub in mud, and visibly settling 
every instant. There was nothing for it but to unload; 
then to dig away the mud from before the wheels with 
a spade, and lay a causeway of bushes and branches. 
This agreeable labor accomplished, the wagon at length 
emerged; but as some interruption of this sort occurred 
at least four or five times a day for a fortnight, our 
progress towards the Platte was not without its obstacles. 

We travelled six or seven miles farther, and "nooned" 
near a brook. On the point of resuming our journey, 
when the horses were all driven down to water, my home- 
sick charger, Pontiac, made a sudden leap across, and set 
off at a round trot for the settlements. I mounted my 



" JUMPING OFF " 29 

remaining horse and started in pursuit. Making a cir- 
suit, I headed the runaway, hoping to drive him back to 
camp, but he instantly broke into a gallop, made a wide 
tour on the prairie, and got by me again. I tried this 
plan repeatedly with the same result; Pontiac was evi- 
dently disgusted with the prairie, so I abandoned it and 
tried another, trotting along gently behind him, in hopes 
that I might quietly get near enough to seize the trail- 
rope which was fastened to his neck, and dragged about 
a dozen feet behind him. The chase grew interesting. 
For mile after mile I followed the rascal with the utmost 
care not to alarm him, and gradually got nearer, until at 
length old Hendrick's nose was fairly brushed by the 
whisking tail of the unsuspecting Pontiac. Without 
drawing rein I slid softly to the ground; but my long 
heavy rifle encumbered me, and the low sound it made in 
striking the horn of the saddle started him ; he pricked 
up his ears and sprang off at a run. "My friend," 
thought I, remounting, "do that again and I will shoot 
you!" 

Fort Leavenworth was about forty miles distant, and 
thither I determined to follow him. I made up my mind 
to spend a solitary and supperless night, and then set out 
again in the morning. One hope, however, remained. 
The creek where the wagon had stuck was just before us ; 
Pontiac might be thirsty with his run and stop there to 
drink. I kept as near him as possible, taking every precau- 
tion not to alarm him again; and the result proved as I 
had hoped, for he walked deliberately among the trees and 
stooped down to the water. I alighted, dragged old 
Hendrick through the mud, and w^ith a feeling of infinite 
satisfaction picked up the slimy trail-rope, and twisted it 
three times round my hand. "Now let me see you get 
away again ! " I thought, as I remounted. But Pontiac 
was exceedingly reluctant to turn back; Hendrick, too, 
who had evidently flattered himself with vain hopes, showed 
the utmost repugnance, and grumbled in a manner peculiar 
to himself at being compelled to face about. A smart 



30 THE OREGON TRAIL 

cut of the whip restored his cheerfulness; and, dragging" 
the recovered truant behind, I set out in search of the 
camp. An hour or two elapsed, when, near sunset, I saw 
the tents, standing on a swell of the prairie, beyond a line 
of woods, while the bands of horses were feeding in a low 
meadow close at hand. There sat Jack C , cross- 
legged, in the sun, splicing a trail-rope ; and the rest were 
lying on the grass, smoking and telling stories. That 
night we enjoyed a serenade from the wolves, more lively 
than any with which they had yet favored us; and in the 
morning one of the musicians appeared, not many rods 
from the tents, quietly seated among the horses, looking 
at us with a pair of large gray eyes; but perceiving a 
rifle levelled at him, he leaped up and made off in hot 
haste. 

I pass by the following day or two of our journey, for 
nothing occurred worthy of record. Should an}^ one of 
my readers ever be impelled to visit the prairies, and 
should he choose the route of the Platte (the best, per- 
haps, that can be adopted), I can assure him that he 
need not think to enter at once upon the paradise of his 
imagination. A dreary preliminary, a protracted crossing 
of the threshold, awaits him before he finds himself fairly 
upon the verge of the ''Great American Desert,"^ — those 
barren wastes, the haunts of the buffalo and the Indian, 
where the very shadow of civilization lies a hundred 
leagues ^ behind him. The intervening country, the wide 
and fertile belt that extends for several hundred miles 
beyond the extreme frontier, will probably answer toler- 
ably well to his preconceived ideas of the prairie; for 
this it is from which picturesque tourists, painters, poets, 
and novelists, who have seldom penetrated farther, have 
derived their conceptions of the whole region. If he has 
a painter's eye, he may find his period of probation not 
wholly void of interest. The scenery, though tame, is 
graceful and pleasing. Here are level plains, too wide 

4 So the prairie-land up to the Rocky Mountains used to be called. 

5 A league is three miles. 



"JUMPING OFF" 31 

for the eye to measure ; green undulations, like motionless 
swells of the ocean ; abundance of streams, followed through 
all their windings by lines of woods and scattered groves. 
But let him be as enthusiastic as he may, he will find 
enough to damp his ardor. His wagons will stick in the 
mud; his horses will break loose; harness will give way; 
and axle-trees prove unsound. His bed will be a soft one, 
consisting often of black mud of the richest consistency. 
As for food, he must content himself with biscuit and salt 
provisions; for, strange as it may seem, this tract of 
country produces very little game. As he advances, in- 
deed, he will see, mouldering in the grass by his path, the 
vast antlers of the elk, and farther on the whitened skulls 
of the buffalo, once swarming over this now deserted 
region. Perhaps, like us, he may journey for a fortnight, 
and see not so much as the hoof-print of a deer; in the 
spring, not even a prairie-hen is to be had. 

Yet, to compensate him for this unlooked-for deficiency 
of game, he will find himself beset Avith "varmints" innu- 
merable. The wolves will entertain him with a concert 
at night, and skulk around him by day, just beyond rifle- 
shot; his horse will step into badger-holes; from every 
marsh and mud-puddle will arise the bellowing, croaking, 
and trilling of legions of frogs, infinitely various in color, 
shape and dimensions. A profusion of snakes will glide 
away from under his horse's feet, or quietly visit him in 
his tent at night; while the pertinacious humming of un- 
numbered mosquitoes will banish sleep from his eyelids. 
When thirsty with a long ride in the scorching sun over 
some boundless reach of prairie, he comes at length to a 
pool of water, and alighting to drink, he discovers a troop 
of young tadpoles sporting in the bottom of his cup. Add 
to this, that, all the morning, the sun beats upon him with 
a sultry, penetrating heat, and that, with provoking regu- 
larity, at about four o'clock in the afternoon, a thunder- 
storm rises and drenches him to the skin. 

One day, after a protracted morning's ride, w^e stopped 
to rest at noon upon the open prairie. No trees were in 



32 THE OREGON TRAIL 

sight: but close at hand a little dribblins: brook was 
twistiiiix from side to side throuiih a hollow; now I'onniui;- 
holes of stagnant water, and now gliding over the nuid in 
a scarcely perceptible current, among a growth of sickly 
bushes, and great clumps of tall rank grass. The day 
was excessively hot and oppressive. The horses and nuiles 
were rolling on the prairie to refresh themselves, or feed- 
ing among the bushes in the hollow. AVe had dined; and 
Deslauriers, puffing at his pipe, knelt on the grass, scrub- 
bing our service of tin-plate. Shaw lay in the shade, 
under the cart, to rest for awhile before the word should 
be given to ''catch up." Henry Chatillon, before lying 
down, was looking about for signs of snakes, the only liv- 
ing things that he feared, and uttering various ejaculations 
of disgust at tinding several suspicious-looking holes close 
to the cart. I sat leaning against the wheel in a scanty 
strip of shade, making a pair of hobbles to replace those 
which my contumacious steed Pontiac had broken the night 
before. The camp of our fi-iends, a rod or two distant, 
presented the same scene of lazy tranquillity. 

"Hallo!" cried Henry, looking up from his inspection 
of the snake-holes, "here conies the old Captain." 

The Captain approached, and stood for a moment con- 
templating us in silence. 

"I say, Parkman," he began, ''look at Shaw there, 
asleep under the cart, with the tar dripping off the hub of 
the wheel on his shoulder." 

At this. Shaw got up, with his eyes half opened, and 
feeling the part indicated, found his hand glued fast to his 
red tlannel shirt. 

"He'll look well when he gets among the squaws, won't 
he?" observed the Captain, with a grin. 

He then crawled under the cart, and began to tell stories, 
of which his stock was inexhaustible. Yet every moment 
he would glance nervously at the horses. At last he 
jumped up in great excitement. ''See that hoi*se ! There 
— that fellow |ust walking over the hill! By jove ! he's 
off. It's your big horse, Shaw; no it isn't, it's Jack's. 



'JUMPING OFF" 33 

Jack! Jack! hallo, Jack!" Jack, thus invoked, jumped 
up and stared vacantly at us. 

''Go and catch your horse, if you don't want to lose 
him,'' roared the Captain. 

Jack instantly set off at a run through the grass, his 
broad trousers flapping about his feet. The Captain 
gazed anxiously till he saw that the horse was caught ; 
then he sat down, with a countenance of thoughtfulness 
and care. 

"I tell you what it is," he said, "this will never do at 
all. AYe shall lose every horse in the band some day or 
other, and then a pretty plight we should be in! Now I 
am convinced that the only way for us is to have ever>' 
man in the camp stand horse-guard in rotation whenever 
we stop. Supposing a hundred Pawnees should jump up 
out of that ravine, all yelling and flapping their buffalo 
robes, in the way they do! Why, in two minutes, not a 
hoof w^ould be in sight." "We reminded the Captain that 
a hundred Pawnees would probably demolish the horse- 
guard if he were to resist their depredations. 

"At any rate," pursued the Captain, evading the point, 
"our whole system is wrong; I'm convinced of it; it is 
totally unmilitary. Why, the w^ay we travel, strung out 
over the prairie for a mile, an enemy might attack the 
foremost men, and cut them off before the rest could come 
up." 

"We are not in an enemy's country yet," said Shaw; 
"when we are, w^e'll travel together." 

"Then," said the Captain, "we might be attacked in 
camp. We've no sentinel; we camp in disorder; no pre- 
cautions at all to guard against surprise. My own con- 
victions are, that we ought to camp in a hollow-square, 
with the fires in the centre ; and have sentinels, and a regu- 
lar password appointed for every night. Beside, there 
should be videttes,^ riding in advance, to find a place for 
the camp and give w^arning of an enemy. These are my 
convictions. I don't want to dictate to any man. I give 

6 Mounted scouts. 



34 THE OREGON TRAIL 

advice to the best of my judgment, that's all; and then let 
people do as they please." 

His plan of sending out videttes seemed particularly 
dear to him ; and as no one else was disposed to second his 
views on this point, he took it into his head to ride forward 
that afternoon himself. 

*'Come, Parkman," said he, *'will you go with me?" 

"We set out together, and rode a mile or two in advance. 
The Captain, in the course of twenty years' service in the 
British army, had seen something of life; and being 
naturally a pleasant fellow, he was a very entertaining 
companion. He cracked jokes and told stories for an 
hour or two; until, looking back, we saw the prairie be- 
hind us stretching away to the horizon, without a horse- 
man or a wagon in sight. 

**Now," said the Captain, ''I think the videttes had 
better stop till the main body comes up." 

I was of the same opinion. There was a thick growth 
of woods just before us, with a stream running through 
them. Having crossed this, we found on the other side 
a level meadow, half encircled by the trees; and, fasten- 
ing our horses to some bushes, we sat down on the grass, 
while, with an old stump of a tree for a target, I began 
to display the superiority of the renowned rifle of the 
backwoods over the foreign innovation borne by the Cap- 
tain. At length voices could be heard in the distance, 
behind the trees. 

''There they come," said the Captain; ''let's go and see 
how they get through the creek." 

We mounted and rode to the bank of the stream, where 
the trail crossed it. It ran in a deep hollow, full of trees. 
As we looked down, we saw a confused crowd of horse- 
men riding through the water; and among the dingy 
habiliments of our party glittered the uniforms of four 
dragoons. 

Shaw came whipping his horse up the bank, in advance 
of the rest, with a somewhat indignant countenance. The 
first word he spoke was a blessing fervently invoked on 



"JUilPIXG OFF" 35 

the head of E , who was riding, with a crest-fallen 

a,r m the rear. Thanks to the ingenious devices ohS 
gentleman we had missed the track entirely, and wandered 
not towards the Platte, but to the village of Ihe Iowa 
Indians. This we learned from the dra|oons, who hid 
lately deserted from Fort Leavenworth. They told us that 
our best plan now was to keep to the northward until we 
should strike the trail formed by several parties of Ore-on 
emigrants, who had that season set out from St. Joseph^ 
m Missouri. '^ '■ 

In extremely bad temper, we encamped on this ill- 
starred spot, while , the deserters, whose case admiUed of 



no delay rode rapidly forward? oT^hrdV f 1 loving 
striking the St. Joseph's trail, we turned our horses' heads 
towards Fort Laramie, then about seven hundred m 
to the westward. 

' St. Joseph is about thirty miles north of Fort Leavenworth. 



CHAPTER V 

THE *'bIG blue" 

The great medley of Oregon and California emigrants 
at their camps around Independence had heard reports 
that several additional parties were on the point of setting 
out from St. Joseph farther to the northward. The pre- 
vailing impression was, that these were Mormons/ twenty- 
three hundred in number ; and a great alarm was excited in 
consequence. The people of Illinois and Missouri, who 
composed by far the greater part of the emigrants, have 
never been on the best terms with the ''Latter Day 
Saints " ; ^ and it is notorious throughout the country how 
much blood had been spilt in their feuds, even far within 
the limits of the settlements. No one could predict what 
would be the result, when large armed bodies of these 
fanatics should encounter the most impetuous and reckless 
of their old enemies on the broad prairie, far beyond the 
reach of law or military force. The women and children at 
Independence raised a great outcry; the men themselves 
were seriously alarmed ; and, as I learned, they sent to 
Colonel Kearney, requesting an escort of dragoons as far as 
the Platte. This was refused; and, as the sequel proved, 
there was no occasion for it. The St. Joseph emigrants 
were as good Christians and as zealous Mormon-haters as 
the rest; and the very few families of the "Saints" who 
passed out this season by the route of the Platte remained 
behind until the great tide of emigration had gone by, 
standing in quite as much awe of the "gentiles"^ as the 
latter did of them. 

1 The Mormons had Just been expelled from Nauvoo, and were 
moving westward, although they did not settle in Salt Lake City 
till 1847. 

2 The Mormons are so called by themselves. 

3 The Mormons' name for other people. 

36 



THE " BIG BLUE " 37 

We were now upon this St. Joseph trail. It was evident, 
by the traces, that large parties were a few days in ad- 
vance of us; and as we too supposed them to be Mormons, 
we had some apprehension of interruption. 

The journey was monotonous. One day we rode on for 
hours, without seeing a tree or a bush : before, behind, and 
on either side, stretched the vast expanse, rolling in a 
succession of graceful swells, covered with the unbroken? 
carpet of fresh green grass. Here and there a crow, a. 
raven, or a turkey-buzzard, relieved the uniformity. 

"What shall we do to-night for wood and water?'* we- 
began to ask of each other; for the sun was within am 
hour of setting. At length a dark green speck appeared^ 
far off on the right : it was the top of a tree, 'peering over" 
a swell of the prairie; and, leaving the trail, we made all 
haste towards it. It proved to be the vanguard of a 
cluster of bushes and low trees, that surrounded some 
pools of water in an extensive hollow; so we encamped on 
the rising ground near it. 

Shaw and I were sitting in the tent, when Deslauriers 
thrust his brown face and old felt hat into the opening, 
and, dilating his eyes to their utmost extent, announced 
supper. There were the tin cups and the iron spoons, 
arranged in order on the grass, and the coffee-pot pre- 
dominant in the midst. The meal was soon dispatched, 
but Henry Chatillon still sat cross-legged, dallying with 
the remnant of his coffee, the beverage in universal use 
upon the prairie, and an especial favorite with him. He 
preferred it in its virgin flavor, unimpaired by sugar or 
cream; and on the present occasion it met his entire 
approval, being exceedingly strong, or, as he expressed it, 
''right black." 

It was a gorgeous sunset; and the ruddy glow of the 
sky was reflected from some extensive pools of water among 
the shadowy copses in the meadow below. 

*'I must have a bath to-night," said Shaw. ''How is 
it, Deslauriers? Any chance for a swim down there?" 

"Ah! I cannot tell; just as you please. Monsieur," re- 



38 THE OREGON TRAIL 

plied Deslauriers, shrugging his shoulders, perplexed by 
his ignorance of English, and extremely anxious to con- 
form in all respects to the opinions and wishes of his 
bourgeois. 

''Look at his moccasin," said I. It had evidently been 
lately immersed in a profound abyss of black mud. 

''Come," said Shaw; "at any rate we can see for our- 
selves, ' ' 

We set out together; and as we approached the bushes, 
which were at some distance, we found the ground becom- 
ing rather treacherous. We could get along only by 
stepping upon large clumps of tall rank grass, with fathom- 
less gulfs betw^een, like innumerable little quaking islands 
-in an ocean of mud, where a false step would have in- 
volved our boots in a castastrophe like that which had 
befallen Deslauriers' moccasins. The thing looked des- 
perate ; we separated so as to search in different directions. 
Shaw going off to the right, while I kept straight for- 
ward. At last I came to the edge of the bushes, — they 
were young water-willows, covered with their caterpillar- 
like blossoms, but intervening between them and the last 
grass clump was a black and deep slough, over which, by 
a vigorous exertion, I contrived to jump. Then I shoul- 
dered my way through the willows, trampling them down 
by main force, till I came to a wide stream of water, three 
inches deep, languidly creeping along over a bottom of 
sleek mud. My arrival produced a great commotion. A 
huge green bull-frog uttered an indignant croak, and 
jumped off the bank with a loud splash; his webbed feet 
twinkled above the surface, as he jerked them energeti- 
cally upward, and I could see him ensconcing himself in 
the unresisting slime at the bottom, whence several large 
air-bubbles struggled lazily to the top. Some little spotted 
frogs followed the patriarch's example; and then three 
turtles, not larger than a dollar, tumbled themselves off 
a broad "lily pad," where they had been reposing. At 
the same time a snake, gayly striped with black and yellow, 



THE "BIG BLUE" 39 

glided out from the bank, and writhed across to the other 
side; and a small stagnant pool into which my foot had 
inadvertently pushed a stone was instantly alive with a 
congregation of black tadpoles. 

''Any chance for a bath where you are?" called out 
Shaw, from a distance. 

The answer was not encouraging. I retreated through 
the willows, and rejoining my companion, we proceeded to 
push our researches in company. Not far on the right, a 
rising ground, covered with trees and bushes, seemed to 
sink down abruptly to the water, and give hope of better 
success; so towards this we directed our steps. AYhen 
we reached the place we found it no easy matter to get 
along between the hill and the water, impeded as we were 
by a growth of stiff, obstinate young birch-trees, laced 
together by grape-vines. In the twilight we now and 
then, to support ourselves, snatched at the touch-me-not 
stem of some ancient sweetbrier. Shaw, who was in ad- 
vance, suddenly uttered an emphatic monosyllable; and, 
looking up, I saw him with one hand grasping a sapling, 
and one foot immersed in the water, from which he had 
forgotten to withdraw it, his whole attention being en- 
gaged in contemplating the movements of a water-snake, 
about five feet long, curiously checkered with black and 
green, who was deliberately swimming across the pool. 
There being no stick or stone at hand to pelt him with, we 
looked at him for a time in silent disgust, and then pushed 
forward. Our perseverance was at last rewarded; for, 
several rods farther on, we emerged upon a little level 
grassy nook among the brushwood, and by an extraordi- 
nary dispensation of fortune, the weeds and floating 
sticks, which elsewhere covered the pool, seemed to have 
drawn apart, and left a few yards of clear water just in 
front of this favored spot. We sounded it with a stick; 
it was four feet deep: we lifted a specimen in our closed 
hands; it seemed reasonably transparent, so we decided 
that the time for action was arrived. But our ablutions 



40 THE OREGON TRAIL 

were suddenly interrupted by ten thousand punctures, 
like poisoned needles, and the humming of myriads of 
overgrown mosquitoes, rising in all directions from their 
native mud and swarming to the feast. We were fain to 
beat a retreat with all possible speed. 

We made towards the tents, much refreshed by the 
bath, which the heat of the weather, joined to our preju- 
dices, had rendered very desirable. 

"What's the matter with the Captain? look at him!" 
said Shaw. The Captain stood alone on the prairie, 
swinging his hat violently around his head, and lifting 
first one foot and then the other, without moving from the 
spot. First he looked down to the ground with an air of 
supreme abhorrence; then he gazed upward with a per- 
plexed and indignant countenance, as if trying to trace 
the flight of an unseen enemy. AVe called to know what 
was the matter; but he replied only by execrations di- 
rected against some unknown object. We approached, 
when our ears were saluted by a droning sound, as if 
twenty bee-hives had been overturned at once. The air 
above was full of large black insects, in a state of great 
commotion, and multitudes were flying about just above 
the tops of the grass-blades. 

''Don't be afraid," called the Captain, observing us re- 
coil. ''The brutes won't sting." 

At this I knocked one down with my hat, and discovered 
him to be no other than a ' ' dor-bug ; " * and, looking closer, 
we found the ground thickly perforated with their holes. 

We took a hasty leave of this flourishing colony, and 
walking up the rising ground to the tents, found Deslau- 
riers' Are still glowing brightly. We sat down around 
it, and Shaw began to expatiate on the admirable facilities 
for bathing that we had discovered, recommending the 
Captain by all means to go down there before breakfast 
in the morning. The Captain was in the act of remark- 
ing that he couldn't have believed it possible, when he 
suddenly interrupted himself, and clapped his hand to 

4 A kind of beetle, otherwise called a June-buff. 



THE " BIG BLUE " 41 

his cheek, exclaiming that "those infernal humbugs were 
at him again." In fact, we began to hear sounds as if 
bullets were humming over our heads. In a moment 
something rapped me sharply on the forehead, then upon 
the neck, and immediately I felt an indefinite number of 
sharp wiry claws in active motion, as if their owner were 
bent on pushing his explorations farther. I seized him, 
and dropped him into the fire. Our party speedily broke 
up, and we adjourned to our respective tents, where, clos- 
ing the opening fast, we hoped to be exempt from inva- 
sion. But all precaution was fruitless. The dor-bugs 
hummed through the tent, and marched over our faces 
until daylight; when, opening our blankets, we found 
several dozen clinging there v>'ith the utmost tenacity. 
The first object that met our eyes in the morning was 
Deslauriers, who seemed to be apostrophizing his frying- 
pan, which he held by the handle, at arm's length. It 
appeared that he had left it at night by the fire ; and the 
bottom was now covered with dor-bugs, firmly imbedded. 
Hundreds of others, curiously parched and shrivelled, lay 
scattered among the ashes. 

The horses and mules were turned loose to feed. We 
had just taken our seats at breakfast, or rather reclined in 
the classic mode, when an exclamation from Henry Chatil- 
lon, and a shout of alarm from the Captain, gave warning 
of some casualty, and looking up, w^e saw the whole band 
of animals, twenty-three in number, filing off for the settle- 
ments, the incorrigible Pontiac at their head, jumping 
along with hobbled feet, at a gait much more rapid than 
graceful. Three or four of us ran to cut them off, dash- 
ing as best we might through the tall grass, which was 
glittering with dew-drops. After a race of a mile or more, 
Shaw caught a horse. Tying the trail-rope by way of 
bridle round the animal's jaw, and leaping upon his back, 
he got in advance of the remaining fugitives, while we, 
soon bringing them together, drove them in a crowd up to 
the tents, where each man caught and saddled his own. 
Then were heard lamentations and curses: for half the 



42 THE OREGON TRAIL 

horses had broken their hobbles, and many were seriously 
galled by attempting to run in fetters. 

It was late that morning before we were on the march; 
and early in the afternoon we were compelled to encamp, 
for a thunder-gust came up and suddenly enveloped us in 
whirling sheets of rain. With much ado we pitched our 
tents amid the tempest, and all night long the thunder 
bellowed and growled over our heads. In the morning 
light peaceful showers succeeded the cataracts of rain, 
that had been drenching us through the canvas of our 
tents. About noon, when there were some treacherous 
indications of fair weather, we got in motion again. 

Not a breath of air stirred over the free and open prairie ; 
the clouds were like light piles of cotton; and where the 
blue sk}^ was visible, it wore a hazy and languid aspect. 
The sun beat down upon us with a sultry, penetrating 
heat almost insupportable, and as our party crept slowly 
along over the interminable level, the horses hung their 
heads as they waded fetlock deep through the mud, and 
the men slouched into the easiest position upon the sad- 
dle. At last, towards evening, the old familiar black heads 
of thunder-clouds rose fast above the horizon, and the 
same deep muttering of distant thunder that had become 
the ordinary accompaniment of our afternoon's journey 
began to roll hoarsely over the prairie. Only a few min- 
utes elapsed before the whole sky was densely shrouded, 
and the prairie and some clusters of woods in front as- 
sumed a purple hue beneath the inky shadows. Suddenly 
from the densest fold of the cloud the flash leaped out, 
quivering again and again down to the edge of the prairie ; 
and at the same instant came the sharp burst and the 
long rolling peal of the thunder. A cool wind, filled with 
the smell of rain, just then overtook us, leveling the tall 
grass by the side of the path. 

"Come on; we must ride for it!" shouted Shaw, rush- 
ing by at full speed, his lead horse snorting at his side. 
The whole party broke into full gallop, and made for the 
trees in front. Passing these, we found beyond them a 



THE " BIG BLUE " 43 

meadow which they half inclosed. We rode pell-mell 
upon the ground, leaped from horseback, tore off our sad- 
dles; and in a moment each man was kneeling at his 
horse's feet. The hobbles were adjusted, and the animals 
turned loose; then, as the wagons came wheeling rapidly 
to the spot, we seized upon the tent-poles, and just as the 
storm broke, we were prepared to receive it. It came 
upon us almost with the darkness of night; the trees, 
which were close at hand, were completely shrouded by 
the roaring torrents of rain. 

We were sitting in the tent when Deslauriers, with his 
broad felt hat hanging about his ears, and his shoulders 
glistening with rain, thrust in his head. 

*'Voulez vous du souper, tout de suite? I can make 
fire, sous la charette — I b 'lieve so — I try. ' ' 

*' Never mind supper, man; come in out of the rain.'' 

Deslauriers accordingly crouched in the entrance, for 
modesty would not permit him to intrude farther. 

Our tent was none of the best defence against such a 
•cataract. The rain could not enter bodily, but it beat 
through the canvas in a fine drizzle, that wetted us just as 
effectually. We sat upon our saddles with faces of the 
utmost surliness, while the water dropped from the vizors 
•of our caps, and trickled down our cheeks. My india- 
rubber cloak conducted twenty little rapid streamlets to 
the ground; and Shaw's blanket coat was saturated like 
a sponge. But what most concerned us was the sight of 
several puddles of water rapidly accumulating; one, in 
particular, that was gathering around the tent-pole, 
threatened to overspread the whole area within the tent, 
holding forth but an indifferent promise of a comfortable 
night's rest. Towards sunset, however, the storm ceased 
as suddenly as it began. A bright streak of clear red 
sky appeared above the western verge of the prairie, the 
horizontal rays of the sinking sun streamed through it, 
and glittered in a thousand prismatic colors upon the 
dripping groves and the prostrate grass. The pools in 
the tent dwindled and sunk into the saturated soil. 



44 THE OREGON TRAIL 

But all our hopes were delusive. Scarcely had night 
set in when the tumult broke forth anew. The thunder 
here is not like the tame thunder of the Atlantic coast. 
Bursting with a terrific crash directly above our heads, it 
roared over the boundless waste of prairie, seeming to roll 
around the whole circle of the firmament with a peculiar 
and awful reverberation. The lightning flashed all nighty 
playing with its livid glare upon the neighboring trees, 
revealing the vast expanse of the plain, and then leaving 
us shut in as if b}^ a palpable wall of darkness. 

It did not disturb us much. Now and then a peal 
awakened us, and made us conscious of the electric battle 
that was raging, and of the floods that dashed upon the 
stanch canvas over our heads. We lay upon india-rubber 
cloths, placed between our blankets and the soil. For a 
while they excluded the water to admiration; but when 
at length it accumulated and began to run over the edges, 
they served equally well to retain it, so that towards the 
end of the night we were unconsciously reposing in small 
pools of rain. 

On finally awakening in the morning the prospect was 
not a cheerful one. The rain no longer poured in tor- 
rents; but it pattered with a quiet pertinacity upon the 
strained and saturated canvas. We disengaged ourselves 
from our blankets, every fibre of which glistened with 
little bead-like drops of water, and looked out in the vain 
hope of discovering some token of fair weather. The 
clouds, in lead-colored volumes, rested upon the dismal 
verge of the prairie, or hung sluggishly overhead, while 
the earth wore an aspect no more attractive than the 
heavens, exhibiting nothing but pools of water, grass 
beaten down, and mud well trampled by our mules and 
horses. Our companion's tent with an air of forlorn and 
passive misery, and their wagons in like manner drenched 
and woe-begone, stood not far off. The Captain was just 
returning from his morning's inspection of the horses. 
He stalked through the mist and rain, with his plaid 
around his shoulders, his little pipe, dingy as an antiqua- 



THE " BIG BLUE " 45 

rian relic, projecting from beneath his moustache, and his 
brother Jack at his heels. 

At noon the sky was clear, and we set out, trailing 
through mud and slime six inches deep. That night we 
were spared the customary infliction of the shower-bath. 

On the next afternoon we were moving slowly along, 
not far from a patch of woods which lay on the right. 
Jack C rode a little in advance, — 

" The livelong day he had not spoke; " 

when suddenly he faced about, pointed to the woods, and 
roared out to his brother, — 

*'0 Bill! here's a cow.'' 

The Captain instantly galloped forward, and he and 
Jack made a vain attempt to capture the prize ; but the 
cow, with a well-grounded distrust of their intentions. 

took refuge among the trees. R joined them, and they 

soon drove her out. We watched their evolutions as they 
galloped around her, trying in vain to noose her with their 
trail-ropes, which they had converted into lariettes ^ for the 
occasion. At length they resorted to milder measures, 
and the cow was driven along with the party. Soon after, 
the usual thunder-storm came up, the wind blowing with 
such fury that the streams of rain flew almost horizontally 
along the prairie, roaring like a cataract. The horses 
turned tail to the storm, and stood hanging their heads, 
bearing the infliction with an air of meekness and resig- 
nation; while we drew our heads between our shoulders, 
and crouched forward, so as to make our backs serve as a 
pent-house for the rest of our persons. IMeanwhile the 
cow, taking advantage of the tumult, ran off, to the great 
discomfiture of the Captain. In defiance of the storm, 
he pulled his cap tight over his brows, jerked a huge 
buffalo-pistol from his holster, and set out at full speed 
after her. This was the last we saw of them for some 
time, the mist and rain making an impenetrable veil; 

5 The Mexican term for lasso, or lariat. 



46 THE OREGON TRAIL 

but at length we heard the Captain's shout, and saw him 
looming through the tempest, the picture of a Hibernian 
cavalier, with his cocked pistol held aloft for safety's sake, 
and a countenance of anxiety and excitement. The cow 
trotted before him, but exhibited evident signs of an in- 
tention to run off again, and the Captain was roaring to 
us to head her. But the rain had got in behind our coat 
collars, and was travelling over our necks in numerous 
little streamlets, and being afraid to move our heads, for 
fear of admitting more, we sat stiff and immovable, look- 
ing at the Captain askance, and laughing at his frantic 
movements. At last the cow made a sudden plunge and 
ran off; the Captain grasped his pistol firmly, spurred his 
horse, and galloped after, with evident designs of mis- 
chief. In a moment we heard the faint report, deadened 
by the rain, and then the conqueror and his victim reap- 
peared, the latter shot through the body, and quite help- 
less. Not long after, the storm moderated, and we ad- 
vanced again. The cow walked painfully along under the 
charge of Jack, to whom the Captain had committed her, 
while he himself rode forward in his old capacit}^ of vidette. 
We were approaching a long line of trees, that followed a 
stream stretching across our path, far in front, when we 
beheld the vidette galloping towards us apparently much 
excited, but with a broad grin on his face. 

*'Let that cow drop behind!" he shouted to us; "here's 
her owners. ' ' 

And, in fact, as we approached the line of trees, a large 
white object, like a tent, was visible behind them. On 
approaching, however, we found, instead of the expected 
Mormon camp, nothing but the lonely prairie, and a large 
white rock standing by the path. The cow, therefore, 
resumed her place in our procession. She walked on 

until we encamped, when R , approaching with his 

English double-barrelled rifle, took aim at her heart, and 
discharged into it first one bullet and then the other. She 
was then butchered on the most approved principles of 



THE " BIG BLUE " 47 

woodcraft, and furnished a very welcome item to our 
somewhat limited bill of fare. 

In a day or two more we reached the river called the ' ' Big 
Blue." By titles equally elegant, almost all the streams 
of this region are designated. We had struggled through 
ditches and little brooks all that morning ; but on travers- 
ing the dense woods that lined the banks of the Blue, we 
found that more formidable difficulties awaited us, for the 
stream, swollen by the rains, was wide, deep, and rapid. 

No sooner were we on the spot than R flung off 

his clothes, and swam across, or splashed through the 
shallows, with the end of a rope between his teeth. We 
all looked on in admiration, and wondering w^hat might be 
the object of this energetic preparation; but soon we 
heard him shouting: ''Give that rope a turn round that 
stump. You, Sorel; do you hear? Look sharp, now, 
Boisverd. Come over to this side, some of you, and help 
me." The men to whom these orders were directed paid 
not the least attention to them, though they were poured 
out without pause or intermission. Henry Chatillon 
directed the work, and it proceeded quietly and rapidly. 

R 's sharp brattling voice might have been heard 

incessantly; and he was leaping about with the utmost 
activity. His commands w^ere rather amusingly incon- 
sistent; for when he saw that the men would not do as 
he told them, he accommodated himself to circumstances, 
and with the utmost vehemence ordered them to do pre- 
cisely that which they were at the time engaged upon, no 
doubt recollecting the story of Mahomet and the refractory 
mountain.^ Shaw smiled; R observed it, and, ap- 
proaching with a countenance of indignation, began to 
vapor a little, but was instantly reduced to silence. 

The raft was at length complete. We piled our goods 
upon it, with, the exception of our guns, which each man 
chose to retain in his own keeping. Sorel, Boisverd, 

6 Mahomet wished the mountain to come to him. When it would 
not do so, he very sensibly went to it. 



48 THE OREGON TRAIL 

Wright, and Deslauriers took their stations at the four 
corners, to hold it together, and swim across with it; and 
in a moment more all our earthly possessions were floating 
on the turbid w^aters of the Big Blue. AVe sat on the bank, 
anxiously w'atching the results, until we saw the raft safe 
landed in a little cove far down on the opposite bank. The 
empty w'agons were easily passed across; and then, each 
man mounting a horse, we rode through the stream the 
stray animals following of their own accord. 



CHAPTER VI 

THE PLATTE AND THE DESERT 

We were now at the end of our solitary journey ings 
along the St. Joseph trail. On the evening of the twenty- 
third of May we encamped near its junction with the old 
legitimate trail of the Oregon emigrants.^ We had ridden 
long that afternoon, trying in vain to find wood and water, 
until at length we saw the sunset sky reflected from a 
pool encircled by bushes and rocks. The water lay in the 
bottom of a hollow, the smooth prairie gracefully rising 
in ocean-like swells on every side. We pitched our tents by 
it; not however before the keen eye of Henry Chatillon 
had discerned some unusual object upon the faintly-defined 
outline of the distant swell. But in the moist, hazy at- 
mosphere of the evening, nothing could be clearly dis- 
tinguished. As we lay around the fire after supper, a low 
and distant sound, strange enough amid the loneliness of 
the prairie, reached our ears — peals of laughter, and the 
faint voices of men and women. For eight days we had 
not encountered a human being, and this singular warning 
of their vicinity had an effect extremely impressive. 

About dark a sallow-faced fellow descended the hill on 
horseback, and splashing through the pool, rode up to the 
tents. He was enveloped in a huge cloak, and his broad 
felt hat was weeping about his ears with the drizzling moist- 
ure of the evening. Another followed, a stout, square- 
built, intelligent-looking man, who announced himself as 
leader of an emigrant party, encamped a mile in advance 
of us. About twenty wagons, he said, were with him; 
the rest of his party were on the other side of the Big 

1 Which started from Independence. 

49 



50 THE OREGON TRAIL 

Blue, waiting for a woman who was in the pains of child- 
birth, and quarrelling meanwhile among themselves. 

These were the first emigrants we had overtaken, al- 
though we had found abundant and melancholy traces of 
their progress throughout the course of the journey. 
Sometimes we passed the grave of one who had sickened 
and died on the way. The earth was usually torn up, 
and covered thickly with wolf-tracks. Some had escaped 
this violation. One morning, a piece of plank, standing 
upright on the summit of a grassy hill, attracted our 
notice, and riding up to it, we found the following words 
very roughly traced upon it, apparently with a red-hot 
piece of iron : — 

MARY ELLIS. 

DIED MAY 7th, 1845. 
AGED TWO MONTHS. 

Such tokens were of common occurrence. 

We were late in breaking up our camp the following 
morning, and scarce^ had we ridden a mile when we 
saw, far in advance of us, drawn against the horizon, a 
line of objects stretching at regular intervals along the 
level edge of the prairie. An intervening swell soon hid 
them from sight, until, ascending it a quarter of an hour 
after, we saw close before us the emigrant caravan, with 
its heavy white wagons creeping on in slow procession, 
and a large drove of cattle following behind. Half a dozen 
yellow-visaged Missourians, mounted on horseback, were 
cursing and shouting among them, their lank angular 
proportions enveloped in brown homespun, evidently cut 
and adjusted by the hands of a domestic female tailor. As 
we approached, they called out to us; ''How are ye, boys? 
Are ye for Oregon or California?" 

As we pushed rapidly by the wagons, children's faces 
were thrust out from the white coverings to look at us; 
while the care-worn, thin featured matron, or the buxom 
girl, seated in front, suspended the knitting on which 



THE PLATTE AND THE DESERT 51 

most of them were engaged to stare at us with wonder- 
ing curiosity. By the side of each wagon stalked the 
proprietor, urging on his patient oxen, who shouldered 
heavily along, inch by inch, on their interminable journey. 
It was easy to see that fear and dissension prevailed among 
them; some of the men — but these, with one exception, 
were bachelors — looked wistfully upon us as we rode lightly 
and swiftly by, and then impatiently at their own lumber- 
ing wagons and heavy-gaited oxen. Others were unwilling 
to advance at all, until the party they had left behind 
should have rejoined them. Many were murmuring 
against the leader they had chosen, and w^ished to depose 
him; and this discontent was fomented by some ambitious 
spirits, who had hopes of succeeding in his place. The 
women were divided between regrets for the homes they 
had left and fear of the deserts and savages before them. 

We soon left them far behind, and hoped that we had 
taken a final leave; but our companions' wagon stuck so 
long in a deep muddy ditch, that before it was extricated 
the van of the emigrant caravan appeared again, descend- 
ing a ridge close at hand. Wagon after wagon plunged 
through the mud; and as it was nearly noon, and the 
place promised shade and water, we saw w^ith much gratifi- 
cation that thej^ were resolved to encamp. Soon the wagons 
were wheeled into a circle ; the cattle were grazing over 
the meadow, and the men, with sour, sullen faces, w^re 
looking about for wood and water. They seemed to meet 
but indifferent success. As we left the ground, I saw a 
tall, slouching fellow, with the nasal accent of "down east,'* 
contemplating the contents of his tin cup, which he had 
just filled with water. 

"Look here, you," said he; "it's chock-full of animals!" 

The cup, as he held it out, exhibited in fact an extraor- 
dinary variety and profusion of animal and vegetable life. 

Riding up the little hill, and looking back on the 
meadow, we could easily see that all was not right in the 
camp of the emigrants. The men w^ere crowded together, 
and an angry discussion seemed to be going forward. 



52 THE OREGOX TKAIL 

R was missing from his wonted place in the line, and 

the Captain told us that he had remained behind to get 
his horse shod by a blacksmith attached to the emigrant 
party. Something whispered in our ears that mischief 
was on foot; we kept on, however, and coming soon to a 
stream of tolerable water, we stopped to rest and dine. 
Still the absentee lingered behind. At last, at the distance 
of a mile, he and his horse suddenly appeared, sharply 
defined against the sky on the summit of a hill; and close 
behind, a huge white object rose slowly into view. 
* ' What is that blockhead bringing with him now ? ' ' 
A moment dispelled the mystery. Slowiy and solemnly, 
one behind the other, four long trains of oxen and four 
emigrant wagons rolled over the crest of the hill and 

gravely descended, while R rode in state in the van. 

It seems, that during the process of shoeing the horse, 
the smothered dissensions among the emigrants suddenly 
broke into open rupture. Some insisted on pushing for- 
ward, some on remaining where they were, and some on 
going back. Kearsley, their captain, threw up his com- 
mand in disgust. "And now, boys," said he, "if any of 
you are for going ahead, just you come along with me." 
Four wagons, with ten men, one woman, and one small 
child, made up the force of the "go-ahead" faction, and 

R , with his usual proclivity toward mischief, invited 

them to join our party. Fear of the Indians — for I can 
conceive no other motive — must have induced him to court 
so burdensome an alliance. The men who joined us were 
all that could be desired; rude indeed in manners, but 
frank, manly, and intelligent. To tell them we could not 
travel with them was out of the question. I merely re- 
minded Kearsley that if his oxen could not keep up with 
our mules he must expect to be left behind, as we could 
not consent to be farther delayed on the journey; but he 
immediately replied, that his oxen ^'should keep up; and if 
they couldn't, why, he allowed, he'd find out how to make 



THE PLATTE AND THE DESERT 53 

On the next day, as it chanced, our English companions 
broke the axle-tree of their wagon, and down came the 
whole cumbrous machine lumbering into the bed of a 
brook. Here was a day's work cut out for us. Mean- 
while our emigrant associates kept on their w^ay, and so 
vigorously did they urge forward their powerful oxen, 
that, what with the broken axle-tree and other mishaps, 
it was full a week before w^e overtook them; when at 
length we discovered them, one afternoon, crawling quietly 
along the sandy brink of the Platte. But meanwhile va- 
rious incidents occurred to ourselves. 

It was probable that at this stage of our journey the 
Pawnees would attempt to rob us. We began therefore 
to stand guard in turn, dividing the night into three 
watches, and appointing two men for each. Deslauriers 
and I held guard together. We did not march with mili- 
tary precision to and fro before the tents; our discipline 
w^as by no means so rigid. We wrapped ourselves in our 
blankets, and sat down by the fire; and Deslauriers, com- 
bining his culinary functions with his duties as sentinel, 
employed himself in boiling the head of an antelope for 
our breakfast. Yet we were models of vigilance in com- 
parison with some of the party; for the ordinary practice 
of the guard was to lay his rifle on the ground, and, 
enveloping his nose in his blanket, meditate on his mis- 
tress, or whatever subject best pleased him. This is 
all well enough when among Indians who do not habit- 
ually proceed further in their hostility than robbing 
travelers of their horses and mules, though, indeed, a Paw- 
nee 's forbearance is not always to be trusted ; but in certain 
regions farther to the west, the guard must beware how he 
exposes his person to the light of the fire, lest some keen- 
eyed skulking marksman should let fly a bullet or an ar- 
row from the darkness. 

Among various tales that circulated around our camp- 
fire was one told by Boisverd, and not inappropriate here. 
He was trapping with several companions on the skirts 



54 THE OREGON TRAIL 

of the Blackfoot - country. The man on guard, knowing 
that it behooved him to put forth his utmost precaution, 
kept aloof from the fire-light, and sat watching intently 
on all sides. At length he was aware of a dark, crouch- 
ing figure, stealing noiselessly into the circle of the light. 
He hastily cocked his rifle, but the sharp click of the 
lock caught the ear of the Blackfoot, whose senses were 
all on the alert. Raising his arrow, already fitted to the 
string, he shot it in the direction of the sound. So sure 
was his aim, that he drove it through the throat of the 
unfortunate guard, and then, with a loud yell, bounded 
from the camp. 

As I looked at the partner of my watch, puffing and 
blowing over his fire, it occurred to me that he might not 
prove the most efficient auxiliary in time of trouble. 

*'Deslauriers," said I, ''would you run away if the 
Pawnees should fire at us?" 

"Ah! oui, oui, IMonsieur!" he replied very decisively. 

At this instant a whimsical variety of voices, — barks, 
howls, yelps, and whines, — all mingled together, sounded 
from the prairie, not far off, as if a conclave of wolves of 
every age and sex were assembled there. Deslauriers 
looked up from his work with a laugh, and began to imi- 
tate this medley of sounds with a ludicrous accuracy. At 
this they were repeated with redoubled emphasis, the 
musician being apparently indignant at the successful 
efforts of a rival. They all proceeded from the throat of 
one little wolf, not larger than a spaniel, seated by him- 
self at some distance. He was of the species called the 
prairie-wolf; a grim-visaged, but harmless little brute, 
whose worst propensity is creeping among horses and 
gnawing the ropes of raw hide by which they are picketed 
around the camp. But other beasts roam the prairies, far 
more formidable in aspect and in character. These are 
the large white and gray wolves, whose deep howl we 
heard at intervals from far and near. 

2 The Blackfeet lived chiefly to the north, by the sources of the 
Missouri and on the Yellowstone. 



THE PLATTE AND THE DESERT 5o 

At last I fell into a doze, and awakening from it, found 
Deslauriers fast asleep. Scandalized by this breach of 
discipline, I Avas about to stimulate his vigilance by stir- 
ring him with the stock of my rifle; but, compassion pre- 
vailing, I determined to let him sleep a while, and then 
arouse him to administer a suitable reproof for such for- 
getfulness of duty. Now and then I walked the rounds 
among the silent horses, to see that all was right. The 
night was chill, damp, and dark, the dank grass bending 
under the icy dew-drops. At the distance of a rod or two 
the tents were invisible, and nothing could be seen but 
the obscure figures of the horses, deeply breathing, and 
restlessly starting as they slept, or still slowly champing 
the grass. Far off, beyond the black outline of the prairie 
there was a ruddy light, gradually increasing, like the 
glow of a conflagration; until at length the broad disk of 
the moon, blood-red, and vastly magnified by the vapors, 
rose slowly upon the darkness, flecked by one or two little 
clouds, and as the light poured over the gloomy plain, a 
fierce and stern howl, close at hand, seemed to greet it as 
an unwelcome intruder. There was something impressive 
and awful in the place and the hour; for I and the beasts 
were all that had consciousness for many a league around. 

Some days elapsed and brought us near the Platte. 
Two men on horseback approached us one morning, and 
we watched them with curiosity and interest that, upon 
the solitude of the plains, such an encounter always excites. 
They Avere evidently Avhites, from their mode of riding, 
though, contrary to the usages of that region, neither of 
them carried a rifle. 

''Fools!" remarked Henry Chatillon, ''to ride that 
way on the prairie; Pawnee find them — then they catch 
it." 

Pawnee had found them, and they had come very near 
*' catching it;" indeed, nothing saved them but the ap- 
proach of our party. Shaw and I knew one of them, — a 
man named Turner, whom we had seen at Westport. He 
and his companion belonged to an emigrant party en- 



56 THE OREGON TRAIL 

camped a few miles in advance, and had returned to look 
for some stray oxen, leaving their rifles, with character- 
istic rashness or ignorance, behind them. Their neglect 
had nearly cost them dear; for, just before we came up, 
half a dozen Indians approached, and, seeing them ap 
parently defenceless, one of the rascals seized the bridle 
of Turner's horse and ordered him to dismount. Tur- 
ner Avas wholly unarmed; but the other jerked a pistol 
out of his pocket, at which the Pawnee recoiled; and just 
then some of our men appearing in the distance, the whole 
party whipped their rugged little horses and made off. 
In no way daunted, Turner foolishly persisted in going 
forward. 

Long after leaving him, and late that afternoon, in the 
midst of a gloomy and barren prairie, we came suddenly 
upon the great trail of the Pawnees, leading from their 
villages on the Platte to their war and hunting grounds 
to the southward. Here every summer passed the motley 
concourse; thousands of savages, men, women, and chil- 
dren, horses and mules, laden with their weapons and im- 
plements, and an innumerable multitude of unruly wolfish 
dogs, who have not acquired the civilized accomplishment 
of barking, but howl like their wild cousins of the prairie. 

The permanent winter villages of the Pawnees stand 
on the lower Platte, but throughout the summer the greater 
part of the inhabitants are wandering over the plains, 
a treacherous, cowardly banditti, who, by a thousand acts 
of pillage and murder, have deserved chastisement at the 
hands of government. Last year a Dahcotah ^ warrior per- 
formed a notable exploit at one of these villages. He ap- 
proached it alone, in the middle of a dark night, and 
clambering up the outside of one of the lodges, which are 
in the form of a half-sphere, looked in at the round hole 
made at the top for the escape of smoke. The dusky light 
from the embers showed him the forms of the sleeping in- 
mates; and dropping lightly through the opening, he un- 

3 The Dahcotahs, or Sioux, "vvere a very large and widely-spread 
Indian tribe. See p. 132 for Parkman's account of them. 



THE PLATTE AND THE DESERT 57 

sheathed his knife, and, stirring the fire, coolly selected his 
victims. One by one, he stabbed and scalped them ; when a 
child suddenly awoke and screamed. He rushed from the 
lodge, yelled a Sioux war-cry, shouted his name in triumph 
and defiance, and darted out upon the dark prairie, leaving 
the whole village behind him in a tumult, with the howling 
and baying of dogs, the screams of women, and the yells of 
the enraged warriors. 

Our friend Kearsley, as we learned on rejoining him, 
signalized himself by a less bloody achievement. He and 
his men were good woodsmen, well skilled in the use of the 
rifle, but found themselves wholly out of their element 
on the prairie. None of them had ever seen a buffalo; 
and they had very vague conceptions of his nature and 
appearance. On the day after they reached the Platte, 
looking towards a distant swell, they beheld a multitude 
of little black specks in motion upon its surface. 

'^Take your rifles, boys," said Kearsley, "and we'll 
have fresh meat for supper." This inducement was quite 
sufficient. The ten men left their wagons, and set out in 
hot haste, some on horseback and some on foot, in pursuit 
of the supposed buffalo. Meanwhile a high, grassy ridge 
shut the game from view; but mounting it after half an 
hour's running and riding, they found themselves suddenly 
confronted by about thirty mounted Pawnees. Amazement 
and consternation were mutual. Having nothing but their 
bows and arrows, the Indians thought their hour was come, 
and the fate that they were conscious of richly deserving 
about to overtake them. So they began, one and all, to shout 
forth the most cordial salutations, running up with extreme 
earnestness to shake hands with the ]\Iissourians, who were 
as much rejoiced as they were to escape the expected con- 
flict. 

A low, undulating line of sand-hills bounded the horizon 
before us. That day we rode ten hours, and it was dusk 
before we entered the hollows and gorges of the gloomy 
little hills. At length we gained the summit, and the 
long-expected valley of the Platte lay before us. We all 



58 THE OREGON TRAIL 

drew rein, and sat joyfully looking down upon the pros- 
pect. It was right welcome; strange, too, and striking 
to the imagination, and yet it had not one picturesque or 
beautiful feature; nor had it any of the features of gran- 
deur, other than its vast extent, its solitude, and its wild- 
ness. For league after league, a plain as level as a lake 
was outspread beneath us; here and there the Platte 
divided into a dozen thread-like sluices, was traversing it, 
and an occasional clump of wood, rising in the midst like 
a shadowy island, relieved the monotony of the waste. No 
living thing was moving throughout the vast landscape, 
except the lizards that darted over the sand and through 
the rank grass and prickly pears at our feet. 

We had passed the more toilsome part of the journey: 
but four hundred miles still intervened between us and 
Fort Laramie ; * and to reach that point cost us the travel 
of three more weeks. During the whole of this time we 
were passing up the middle of a long, narrow, sandy plain, 
reaching like an outstretched belt nearly to the Rocky 
Mountains. Two lines of sand-hills, broken often into 
the wildest and most fantastic forms, flanked the valley 
at the distance of a mile or two on the right and left; 
while beyond them lay a barren, trackless waste, extend- 
ing for hundreds of miles to the Arkansas on the one side, 
and the Missouri on the other. Before and behind us, 
the level monotony of the plain was unbroken as far as the 
eye could reach. Sometimes it glared in the sun, an ex- 
panse of hot, bare sand; sometimes it was veiled by long 
coarse grass. Skulls and whitening bones of buffalo were 
scattered everywhere; the ground was tracked by myriads 
of them, and often covered with the circular indentations 
where the bulls had wallowed in the hot weather. From 
every gorge and ravine, opening from the hills, descended 
deep, well-worn paths, where the buffalo issue twice a day 
in regular procession to drink in the Platte. The river 
itself runs through the midst, a thin sheet of rapid, turbid 

4 The central point of Parkman's later wanderings. See Chapter 
IX. 



THE PLATTE AXD THE DESERT 59 

water, half a mile Avide, and scarcely two feet deep. Its 
low banks, for the most part without a bush or a tree, are 
of loose sand, with which the stream is so charged that it 
grates on the teeth in drinking. The naked landscape is, 
of itself, dreary and monotonous enough ; and yet the wild 
beasts and wild men that frequent the valley of the Platte 
make it a scene of interest and excitement to the traveller. 
Of those who have journeyed there, scarcely one, perhaps, 
fails to look back with fond regret to his horse and his 
rifle. 

Early in the morning after we reached the Platte, a 
long procession of squalid savages approached our camp. 
Each was on foot, leading his horse by a rope of bull-hide. 
His attire consisted merely of a scanty cincture, and an 
old buffalo robe, tattered and begrimed by use, which hung 
over his shoulders. His head was close shaven, except a 
ridge of hair reaching over the crown from the middle of 
the forehead, very much like the long bristles on the back 
of a hyena, and he carried his bow and arrows in his hand, 
while his meagre little horse was laden with dried buffalo 
meat, the product of his hunting. Such were the first 
specimens that we met — and very indifferent ones they 
were — of the genuine savages of the prairie. 

They were the Pawnees whom Kearsley had encountened 
the day before, and belonged to a large hunting party, 
known to be ranging the prairie in the vicinity. They 
strode rapidly by, within a furlong of our tents, not paus- 
ing or looking towards us, after the manner of Indians when 
meditating mischief, or conscious of ill desert. I went out 
to meet them, and had an amicable conference with the 
chief, presenting him with half a pound of tobacco, at 
which unmerited bounty he expressed much gratification. 
These fellows, or some of their companions, had committed 
a dastardly outrage upon an emigrant party in advance 
of us. Two men, at a distance from the rest, were seized 
by them, but, lashing their horses, they broke loose and 
fled. At this the Pawnees raised the yell and shot at them, 
transfixing the hindmost through the back with several 



60 THE OREGON TRAIL 

arrows, while his companion galloped away and brought in 
the news to his party. The panic-stricken emigrants re- 
mained for several days in camp, not daring even to send 
out in quest of the dead body. 

Our New-England climate is mild and equable compared 
with that of the Platte. This very morning, for instance, 
was ^ close and sultry, the sun rising with a faint oppres- 
sive 'heat; when suddenly darkness gathered in the west, 
and a furious blast of sleet and hail drove full in our faces, 
icy cold, and urged with such demoniac vehemence that it 
felt like a storm of needles. It was curious to see the 
horses; they faced about in extreme displeasure, holding 
their tails like whipped dogs, and shivering as the angry 
gusts, howling louder than a concert of wolves, swept over 
us. Wright's long train of mules came sweeping round 
before the storm, like a flight of snow-birds driven by a 
winter tempest. Thus we all remained stationary for some 
minutes, crouching close to our horses' necks, much too 
surly to speak, though once the Captain looked up from 
between the collars of his coat, his face blood-red, and the 
muscles of his mouth contracted by the cold into a most 
ludicrous grin of agony. He grumbled something that 
sounded like a curse, directed, as we believed, against the 
unhappy hour when he had first thought of leaving home» 
The thing was too good to last long; and the instant the 
puffs of wind subsided we pitched our tents, and remained 
in camp for the rest of a gloomy and lowering day. The 
emigrants also encamped near at hand. We being first 
on the ground, had appropriated all the wood within reach ;. 
so that our fire alone blazed cheerily. Around it soon 
gathered a group of uncouth figures, shivering in the drizzl- 
ing rain. Conspicuous among them were two or three of 
the half-savage men who spend their reckless lives in 
trapping among the Rocky Mountains, or in trading for 
the Fur Company in the Indian villages. They were all 
of Canadian extraction; their hard, weather-beaten faces 
and bushy moustaches looked out from beneath the hoods 
of their white capotes with a bad and brutish expression. 



THE PLATTE AND THE DESERT 61 

as if their owners might be the wilLng agents of any 
villany. And such in fact is the character of many of 
these men. 

On the day following we overtook Kearsley's wagons, 
and thenceforward, for a week or two, we were fellow- 
travelers. One good effect, at least, resulted from the 
alliance; it materially diminished the fatigues of stand- 
ing guard; for the party being now more numerous, there 
were longer intervals between each man 's turns of duty. 



CHAPTER VII 

THE BUFFALO 

Four days on the Platte, and yet no buffalo! Last 
year's signs of them were provokingly abundant; and wood 
being extremely scarce, we found an admirable substitute 
in the hois de vache,^ which burns like peat, producing no 
unpleasant effects. The wagons one morning had left the 
camp; Shaw and I were already on horseback, but Henry 
Chatillon still sat cross-legged by the dead embers of the 
fire, playing pensively with the lock of his rifle, while his 
sturdy Wyandot pony stood quietly behind him, looking 
over his head. At last he got up, patted the neck of the 
pony (which, from an exaggerated appreciation of his 
merits, he had christened "Five Hundred Dollar"), and 
then mounted, with a melancholy air. 

"What is it, Henry?" 

"Ah, I feel lonesome; I never been here before but I 
see away yonder over the buttes,- and down there on the 
prairie, black — all black with buffalo." 

In the afternoon he and I left the party in search of 
an antelope, until, at the distance of a mile or two on the 
right, the tall white wagons and the little black specks of 
horsemen were just visible, so slowly advancing that they 
seemed notionless; and far on the left rose the broken 
line of scorched, desolate sand-hills. The vast plain waved 
with tall rank grass, that swept our horses' bellies; it 
swayed to and fro in billows with the light breeze, and 
far and near antelope and wolves were moving through 
it, the hairy backs of the latter alternately appearing and 

1 Biiff'alo-chips. 

2 (Buts) the name given to conspicuous, isolated hills on the 
prairie. 

62 



THE BUFFALO 63 

disappearing as they bounded awkwardly along; while the 
antelope, w^ith the simple curiosity peculiar to them, would 
often approach us closely, their little horns and white 
throats just visible above the grass tops, as they gazed 
eagerly at us with their round black eyes. 

I dismounted, and amused myself with firing at the 
wolves. Henry attentively scrutinized the surrounding 
landscape; at length he gave a shout, and called on me 
to mount again, pointing in the direction of the sand- 
hills. A mile and a half from us two black specks slowly 
traversed the bare glaring face of one of them, and disap- 
peared behind the summit. "Let us go!" cried Henry, 
belaboring the sides of "Five Hundred Dollar;" and I 
following in his wake, we galloped rapidly through the 
rank grass toward the base of the hills. 

From one of their openings descended a deep ravine, 
widening as it issued on the prairie. We entered it, and 
galloping up, in a moment were surrounded by the bleak 
sand-hills. Half of their steep sides were bare; the rest 
were scantily clothed with clumps of grass, and various 
uncouth plants, conspicuous among which appeared the 
reptile-like prickly-pear. They were gashed with number- 
less ravines; and as the sky had suddenly darkened, and 
a cold gusty wind arisen, the strange shrubs and the dreary 
hills looked doubly wdld and desolate. But Henry's face 
was all eagerness. He tore off a little hair from the 
piece of buffalo-robe under his saddle, and threw it up, to 
show the course of the wind. It blew directly before us. 
The game was therefore to windward, and it was neces- 
sary to make our best speed to get around them. 

We scrambled from this ravine, and, galloping away 
through the hollows, soon found another, winding like a 
snake among the hills, and so deep that it completely 
concealed us. We rode up the bottom of it, glancing 
through the bushes at its edge, till Henry abruptly jerked 
his rein, and slid out of his saddle. Full a quarter of a 
mile distant, on the outline of the farthest hill, a long 
procession of buffalo were walking in Indian file, with 



64 THE OREGON TRAIL 

the utmost gravity and deliberation; then more ap- 
peared, clambering from a hollow not far off, and ascend- 
ing, one behind the other, the grassy slope of another 
hill; then a shaggy head and a pair of short broken 
horns issued out of a ravine close at hand, and with a 
slow, stately step, one by one, the enormous brutes came 
into view, taking their way across the valley, wholly 
unconscious of an enemy. In a moment Henry was 
worming his way, lying flat on the ground, through grass 
and prickly-pears toward his unsuspecting victims. He 
had with him both my rifle and his own. He was soon 
out of sight, and still the buffalo kept issuing into the 
valley. For a long time all was silent; I sat holding his 
horse and wondering what he was about, when suddenly, 
in rapid succession, came the sharp reports of the two 
rifles, and the whole line of buffalos, quickening their pace 
into a clumsy trot, gradually disappeared over the ridge 
of the hill. Henry rose to his feet, and stood looking after 
them. 

''You have missed them," said I. 

"Yes," said Henry; ''let us go." He descended into 
the ravine, loaded the rifles, and mounted his horse. 

We rode up the hill after the buffalo. The herd was 
out of sight when we reached the top, but lying on the 
grass, not far off, was one quite lifeless, and another 
violently struggling in the death agony. 

"You see I miss him!" remarked Henry. He had fired 
from a distance of more than a hundred and fifty yards, 
and both balls had passed through the lungs, the true mark 
in shooting buffalo. 

The darkness increased, and a driving storm came on. 
Tying our horses to the horns of the victims, Henry began 
the bloody work of dissection, slashing away with the 
science of a connoisseur, while I vainly tried to imitate 
him. Old Hendrick recoiled with horror and indignation 
when I endeavored to tie the meat to the strings of raw 
hide, always carried for this purpose, dangling at the 
back of the saddle. After some difficulty we overcame 



THE BUFFALO 65 

his scruples; and, heavily burdened with the more eligible 
portions of the buffalo, we set out on our return. Scarcely 
had we emerged from the labyrinth of gorges and ravines, 
and issued upon the open prairie, when the prickling 
sleet came driving, gust upon gust, directly in our faces. 
It was strangely dark, though wanting still an hour of 
sunset. The freezing storm soon penetrated to the skin, 
but the uneasy trot of our heav^^-gaited horses kept us ' 
warm enough, as we forced them unwillingly in the teeth 
of the sleet and rain, by the powerful suasion of our In- 
dian whips. The prairie in this place was hard and level. 
A flourishing colony of prairie-dogs had burrowed into it 
in ever}' direction, and the little mounds of fresh earth 
around their holes were about as numerous as the hills in 
a corn-field; but not a yelp was to be heard; not the 
nose of a single citizen was visible; all had retired to the 
depths of their burrows, and we envied them their dry 
and comfortable habitations. An hour's hard riding 
showed us our tent dimly looming through the storm, one 
side puffed out by the force of the wdnd, and the other 
collapsed in proportion, while the disconsolate horses stood 
shivering close around, and the wind kept up a dis- 
mal whistling in the boughs of three old half-dead trees 
above. Shaw, like a patriarch, sat on his saddle in the 
entrance, with a pipe in his mouth and his arms folded, 
contemplating, with cool satisfaction, the piles of meat 
that w^e flung on the ground before him. A dark and 
dreary night succeeded; but the sun rose, with a heat so 
sultry and languid that the Captain excused himself on 
that account from waylaying an old buffalo bull, who with 
stupid gravity was walking over the prairie to drink at 
the river. So much for the climate of the Platte. 

But it was not the weather alone that had produced 
this sudden abatement of the sportsman-like zeal which 
the Captain had ahvays professed. He had been out on 
the afternoon before, together with several members of 
his party: but their hunting was attended with no other 
result than the loss of one of their best horses, severely 



66 THE OREGON TRAIL 

injured by Sorel, in vainly chasing a wounded bull. The 
Captain, whose ideas of hard riding were all derived from 
transatlantic sources, expressed the utmost amazement at 
the feats of Sorel, who went leaping ravines, and dash- 
ing at full speed up and down the sides of precipitous 
hills, lashing his horse with the recklessness of a Rocky 
Mountain rider. Unfortunately for the poor animal, he 
w^as the property of R , against whom Sorel enter- 
tained an unbounded aversion. The Captain himself, it 
seemed, had also attempted to ' ' run ' ' a buffalo, but though 
a good and practised horseman, he had soon given over 
the attempt, being astonished and utterly disgusted at the 
nature of the ground he was required to ride over. As 
we were skirting the brink of a deep ravine we saw Henry 
and the pony coming towards us at a gallop. 

"Here's old Papin and Frederic, down from Fort Lar- 
amie," shouted Henry. We had for some days expected 
this encounter. Papin was the bourgeois, or "boss," of 
Fort Laramie. He had come down the river with the 
buffalo-robes and the beaver, the produce of the last win- 
ter's trading. I had among our baggage a letter which 
I wished to commit to their hands; so requesting Henry 
to detain the boats if he could until my return, I set 
out after the wagons. They were about four miles in 
advance. In half an hour I overtook them, got the letter, 
trotted back upon the trail, and looking carefully, as I 
rode, saw a patch of broken storm-blasted trees, and, moving 
near them, some little black specks like men and horses. 
Arriving at the place, I found a strange assembly. The 
boats, eleven in number, deep-laden with the skins, hugged 
close to the shore, to escape being borne down bj^ the swift 
current. The rowers, swarthy ignoble IMexicans, turned 
their brutish faces upwards to look, as I reached the bank. 
Papin sat in the middle of one of the boats, upon the canvas 
covering that protected the robes. He was a stout, robust 
fellow, with a little gray eye, that had a peculiarly sly 
twinkle. "Frederic," also, stretched his tall raw-boned 
proportions close by the bourgeois, and "mountain men" 



THE BUFFALO 67 

completed the group : some lounging in the boats, some 
strolling on shore ; some attired in gayly-painted buffalo 
robes, like Indian dandies; some with hair saturated with 
red paint, and plastered with glue to their temples ; and one 
bedaubed with vermilion upon the forehead and each cheek. 
They were a mongrel race; yet the French blood seemed 
to predominate : in a few, indeed, might be seen the black 
snaky eye of the Indian half-breed, and, one and all, they 
seemed to aim at assimilating themselves to their savage 
associates. 

I shook hands with the bourgeois, and delivered the letter : 
then the boats swung round into the stream and floated 
away. They had reason for haste, for already the voyage 
from Fort Laramie had occupied a full month, and the 
river was growing daily more shallow. Fifty times a day 
the boats had been aground; indeed, those who navigate 
the Platte invariably spend half their time upon sand-bars. 
Two of these boats, the property of private traders, after- 
wards separating from the rest, got hopelessly involved in 
the shallows, not very far from the Pawnee villages, and 
were soon surrounded by a swarm of the inhabitants. 
They carried off every thing that they thought valuable, 
including most of the robes; and amused themselves by 
tying up the men left on guard, and soundly whipping 
them with sticks. 

We encamped that night upon the bank of the river. 
Am.ong the emigrants was an overgrown boy, some eighteen 
years old, with a head as round and about as large as a 
pumpkin, and fever-and-ague fits had dyed his face of a 
corresponding color. He wore an old white hat, tied under 
his chin with a handkerchief ; his body was short and stout, 
but his legs were of disproportioned and appalling length. 
I observed him at sunset, breasting the hill with gigantic 
strides, and standing against the -sky on the summit, like 
a colossal pair of tongs. In a moment after we heard 
him screaming frantically behind the ridge, and nothing 
doubting that he was in the clutches of Indians or grizzly 
bears, some of the party caught up their rifles and ran to 



68 THE OREGON TRAIL 

the rescue. His outcries, however, were but an ebullition 
of joyous excitement; he had chased two wolf pups to 
their burrow, and was on his knees, grubbing away like 
a dog at the mouth of the hole, to get at them. 

Before morning he caused more serious disquiet in the 
camp. It was his turn to hold the middle-guard ; but no 
sooner was he called up than he coolly arranged a pair of 
saddle-bags under a wagon, laid his head upon them, closed 
his eyes, opened his mouth, and fell asleep. The guard 
on our side of the camp, thinking it no part of his duty to 
look after the cattle of the emigrants, contented himself 
with watching our own horses and mules; the wolves, he 
said, were unusually noisy; but still no mischief was an- 
ticipated until the sun rose, when not a hoof or horn was 
in sight. The cattle were gone. While Tom was quietly 
slumbering, the wolves had driven them away. 

Then we reaped the fruits of E 's precious plan of 

traveling in company with emigrants. To leave them in 
their distress was not to be thought of, and we felt bound 
to wait until the cattle could be searched for, and, if pos- 
sible, recovered. But the reader may be curious to Imow 
what punishment awaited the faithless Tom. By the 
wholesome law of the prairie, he who falls asleep on guard 
is condemned to walk all day, leading his horse by the 
bridle ; and we found much fault with our companions for 
not enforcing such a sentence on the offender. Never- 
theless, had he been of our own party, I have no doubt 
that he would in like manner have escaped scot-free. But 
the emigrants went farther than mere forbearance; they 
decreed that since Tom couldn't stand guard without fall- 
ing asleep, he shouldn't stand guard at all, and hencefor- 
ward his slumbers were unbroken. Establishing such a 
premium on drowsiness could have no very beneficial effect 
upon the vigilance of our sentinels; for it is far from 
agreeable, after riding from sunrise to sunset, to feel your 
slumbers interrupted by the butt of a rifle nudging your 
side, and a sleepy voice growling in your ear that you 



THE BUFFALO 69 

must get up, to shiver and freeze for three weary hours at 
midnight. 

' ' Buffalo ! buffalo ! " It was but a grim old bull, roam- 
ing the prairie by himself in misanthropic seclusion; but 
there might be more behind the hills. Dreading the 
monotony and languor of the camp, Shaw and I saddled 
our horses, buckled our holsters in their places, and set out 
with Henry Chatillon in search of the game. Henry, not 
intending to take part in the chase, but merely conducting 
us, carried his rifle with him, while we left ours behind as 
incumbrances. We rode for some five or six miles, and 
saw no living thing but Avolves, snakes, and prairie-dogs. 

' ' This won 't do at all, ' ' said Shaw. 

''What won't do?" 

''There's no wood about here to make a litter for a 
wounded man: I have an idea that one of us will need 
something of the sort before the day is over." 

There was some foundation for such an idea, for the 
ground was none of the best for a race, and grew worse 
continually as we proceeded; indeed, it soon became 
desperately bad, consisting of abrupt hills and deep 
hollows, cut by frequent ravines not easy to pass. At 
length, a mile in advance, we saw a band of bulls. Some 
were scattered grazing over a green declivity, while the 
rest were crowded together in the wide hollow below. 
Making a circuit, to keep out of sight, we rode towards 
them, until we ascended a hill, within a furlong of them, 
beyond which nothing intervened that could possibly screen 
us from their view. We dismounted behind the ridge, 
just out of sight, drew our saddle-girths, examined our 
pistols, and mounting again, rode over the hill, and de- 
scended at a canter towards them, bending close to our 
horses ' necks. Instantly they took the alarm : those on the 
hill descended, those below gathered into a mass, and the 
whole got into motion, shouldering each other along at a 
clumsy gallop. We followed, spurring our horses to full 
speed ; and as the herd rushed, crowding and trampling in 



70 THE OREGON TKAIL 

terror through an opening in the hills, we were close at 
their heels, half suffocated by the clouds of dust. But as 
we drew near, their alarm and speed increased ; our horses, 
being new to the work, showed signs of the utmost fear, 
bounding violently aside as we approached, and refusing 
to enter among the herd. The buffalo now broke into 
several small bodies, scampering over the hills in different 
directions, and I lost sight of Shaw; neither of us knew 
where the other had gone. Old Pontiac ran like a frantic 
elephant up hill and down hill, his ponderous hoofs strik- 
ing the prairie like sledge-hammers. He showed a curious 
mixture of eagerness and terror, straining to overtake the 
panic-stricken herd, but constantly recoiling in dismay as 
we drew near. The fugitives, indeed, offered no very at- 
tractive spectacle with their shaggy manes and the tattered 
remnants of their last winter's hair covering their 
backs in irregular shreds and patches, and flying off in the 
wind as they ran. At length I urged my horse close be- 
hind a bull, and after trying in vain, by blows and spurring, 
to bring him alongside, I fired from this disadvantageous 
position. At the report Pontiac swerved so much that I 
was again thrown a little behind the game. The bullet, 
entering too much in the rear, failed to disable the bull ; for 
a buffalo requires to be shot at particular points, or he will 
certainly escape. The herd ran up a hill, and I followed 
in pursuit. As Pontiac rushed headlong down on the other 
side, I saw Shaw and Henry descending the hollow on the 
right, at a leisurely gallop ; and in front, the buffalo were 
just disappearing behind the crest of the next hill, their 
short tails erect, and their hoofs twinkling through a cloud 
of dust. 

At that moment I heard Shaw and Henry shouting to 
me; but the muscles of a stronger arm than mine could 
not have checked at once the furious course of Pontiac, 
whose mouth was as insensible as leather. Added to this, 
I rode him that morning with a snaffle, having the day 
before, for the benefit of my other horse, unbuckled from 
my bridle the curb which I commonly used. A stronger 



THE BUFFALO 71 

and hardier brute never trod the prairie; but the novel 
sight of the buffalo filled him with terror, and when at 
full speed he was almost uncontrollable. Gaining the top 
of the ridge, I saw nothing of the buffalo; they had all 
vanished amid the intricacies of the hills and hollows. 
Reloading my pistols, in the best way I could, I galloped 
on until I saw them again scuttling along the base of the 
hill, their panic somewhat abated. Down went old Pontiac 
among them, scattering them to the right and left; and 
then we had another long chase. About a dozen bulls were 
before us, scouring over the hills, rushing down the 
declivities with tremendous weight and impetuosity, and 
then laboring with a weary gallop upward. Still Pontiac, 
in spite of spurring and beating, would not close with them. 
One bull at length fell a little behind the rest, and by dint 
of much effort, I urged my horse within six or eight yards 
of his side. His back was darkened with sweat: he was 
panting heavily, while his tongue lolled out a foot from 
his jaws. Gradually I came up abreast of him, urging 
Pontiac with leg and rein nearer to his side, when suddenly 
he did what buffalo in such circumstances will always do : 
he slackened his gallop, and turning towards us, with an 
aspect of mingled rage and distress, lowered his huge, 
shaggy head for a charge. Pontiac, with a snort, leaped 
aside in terror, nearly throwing me to the ground, as I was 
wholly unprepared for such an evolution. I raised my 
pistol in a passion to strike him on the head, but thinking 
better of it, fired the bullet after the bull, who had resumed 
his flight; then drew rein, and determined to rejoin my 
companions. It was high time. The breath blew hard 
from Pontiac 's nostrils, and the sweat rolled in big drops 
down his sides ; I myself felt as if drenched in warm water. 
Pledging myself to take my revenge at a future oppor- 
tunity, I looked about for some indications to show me 
where I was, and what course I ought to pursue ; I might 
as well have looked for landmarks in the midst of the 
ocean. How many miles I had run, or in what direction, 
I had no idea; and around me the prairie was rolling in 



72 THE OREGON TRAIL 

steep swells and pitches, without a single distinctive feature 
to guide me. I had a little compass hung at my neck; 
and ignorant that the Platte at this point diverged con- 
siderably from its easterly course, I thought that by keep- 
ing to the northward I should certainly reach it. So I 
turned and rode about two hours in that direction. The 
prairie changed as I advanced, softening away into easier 
undulations, but nothing like the Platte appeared, nor any 
sign of a human being: the same w^ild endless expanse lay 
around me still; and to all appearance I was as far from 
my object as ever. I began now to think myself in danger 
of being lost, and reining in my horse, summoned the 
scanty share of woodcraft that I possessed (if that term 
is applica-ble on the prairie) to extricate me. It occurred to 
me that the buffalo might prove my best guides. I soon 
found one of the paths made by them in their passage to 
the river; it ran nearly at right angles to my course; but 
turning my horse's head in the direction it indicated, his 
freer gait and erected ears assured me that I was right. 

But in the mean time my ride had been by no means a 
solitary one. The face of the country was dotted far 
and wide with countless hundreds of buffalo. They 
trooped along in files and columns, bulls, cows, and calves, 
on the green faces of the declivities in front. They 
scrambled away over the hills to the right and left; and 
far off*, the pale blue swells in the extreme distance were 
dotted with innumerable specks. Sometimes I surprised 
shaggy old bulls grazing alone, or sleeping behind the 
ridges I ascended. They would leap up at my approach, 
stare stupidly at me through their tangled manes, and 
then gallop heavily away. The antelope were very numer- 
ous; and as they are alwaj^s bold when in the neigh- 
borhood of buffalo, they would approach to look at me, 
gaze intently with their great round eyes, then suddenly 
leap aside, and stretch lightly away over the prairie, as 
swiftly as a race-horse. Squalid, ruffian-like wolves 
sneaked through the hollows and sandy ravines. Several 
times I passed through villages of prairie-dogs, who sat^ 



THE BUFFALO 73 

each at the mouth of his burrow, holding his paws before 
him in a supplicating attitude, and yelping away most 
vehemently, whisking his little tail with every squeak- 
ing cry he uttered. Prairie-dogs are not fastidious in 
their choice of companions; various long checkered snakes 
were sunning themselves in the midst of the village, and 
demure little gray owls, with a large white ring around 
each eye, were perched side by side with the rightful in- 
habitants.^ The prairie teemed with life. Again and 
again I looked toward the crowded hill-sides, and was sure 
I saw horsemen; and riding near, with a mixture of hope 
and dread, for Indians were abroad, I found them trans- 
formed into a group of buffalo. There was nothing in 
human shape amid all this vast congregation of brute 
forms. 

When I turned down the buffalo path, the prairie 
seemed changed ; only a wolf or two glided by at intervals, 
like conscious felons, never looking to the right or left. Be- 
ing now free from anxiety, I was at leisure to observe 
minutely the objects around me; and here, for the first 
time, I noticed insects wholly different from any of the va- 
rieties found farther to the eastward. Gaudy butterflies 
fluttered about my horse's head; strangely formed beetles, 
glittering with metallic lustre, were crawling upon plants 
that I had never seen before; multitudes of lizards, too, 
were darting like lightning over the sand. 

I had run to a great distance from the river. It cost 
me a long ride on the buffalo path, before I saw, from the 
ridge of a sand-hill, the pale surface of the Platte glisten- 
ing in the midst of its desert valley, and the faint outline 
of the hills beyond waving along the sky. From where I 
stood, not a tree nor a bush nor a living thing was visible 
throughout the whole extent of the sun-scorched land- 
scape. In half an hour I came upon the trail, not far 
from the river; and seeing that the party had not yet 
passed, I turned eastward to meet them, old Pontiac 's long 

3 This curious mixture of prairie dog society is noticed bj all the 
early travelers. For more detail, see pp. 265, 266. 



74 THE OREGON TRAIL 

swinging trot again assuring me that I was right in doing 
so. Having been slightly ill on leaving camp in the morn- 
ing, six or seven hours of rough riding had fatigued me 
extremely. I soon stopped, therefore, flung my saddle 
on the ground, and with my head resting on it, and my 
horse's trail-rope tied loosely to my arm, lay waiting the 
arrival of the party, speculating meanwhile on the extent of 
the injuries Pontiac had received. At length the white 
wagon coverings rose from the verge of the plain. By a 
singular coincidence, almost at the same moment two horse- 
men appeared coming down from the hills. They were 
Shaw and Henry, who had searched for me awhile in the 
morning, but well knowing the futility of the attempt in 
such a broken country, had placed themselves on the top 
of the highest hill they could find, and picketing their 
horses near them, as a signal to me, had lain down and 
fallen asleep. The stray cattle had been recovered, as 
the emigrants told us, about noon. Before sunset, we 
pushed forward eight miles farther. 

"June 7, 1846. — Four men are missing: R , Sorel, and two 

emigrants. They set out this morning after buffalo, and have not 
yet made their appearance; whether killed or lost, we cannot tell." 

I find the above in my note-book, and well remember 
the council held on the occasion. Our fire was the scene 
of it; for the superiority of Henry Chatillon's experience 
and skill made him the resort of the whole camp upon 
€very question of difficulty. He was moulding bullets at 
the fire, when the Captain drew near, with a perturbed 
and care-worn expression of countenance, faithfully re- 
flected on the heavy features of Jack, who followed close 
behind. Then the emigrants came straggling from their 
wagons towards the common centre. Various suggestions 
were made, to account for the absence of the four men, 
and one or two of the emigrants declared that, when 
out after cattle, they had seen Indians dogging them, and 
crawling like wolves along the ridges of the hills. At 



THE BUFFALO 75 

this the Captain slowly shook his head with double gravity, 
and solemnly remarked, — 

"It's a serious thing to be travelling through this cursed 
wilderness;" an opinion in which Jack immediately ex- 
pressed a thorough coincidence. Henry would not com- 
mit himself by declaring any positive opinion. 

"Maybe he only followed the buffalo too far; maybe 
Indian kill him; maybe he got lost; I cannot tell." 

With this the auditors were obliged to rest content; 
the emigrants, not in the least alarmed, though curious 
to know what had become of their comrades, walked back 
to their wagons, and the Captain betook himself pensively 
to his tent. Shaw and I followed his example. 



CHAPTER VIII 

TAKING FRENCH LEAVE 

On the eighth of June, at eleven o 'clock, we reached the 
South Fork of the Platte, at the usual fording-place. For 
league upon league the desert uniformity of the prospect 
was almost unbroken; the hills were dotted with little 
tufts of shrivelled grass, but betwixt these the white sand 
was glaring in the sun; and the channel of the river, al- 
most on a level with the plain, was but one great sand-bed, 
about half a mile wide. It was covered with water, but so 
scantily that the bottom was scarcely hidden ; for, wide as 
it is, the average depth of the Platte does not at this point 
exceed a foot and a half. Stopping near its bank, we 
gathered hois de vache, and miade a meal of buffalo-meat. 
Far off, on the other side, was a green meadow, where we 
could see the white tents and wagons of an emigrant camp ; 
and just opposite to us we could discern a group of men 
and animals at the water's edge. Four or five horsemen 
soon entered the river, and in ten minutes had waded across 
and clambered up the loose sand-bank. They were ill-look- 
ing fellows, thin and swarthy, with care-worn anxious faces, 
and lips rigidly compressed. They had good cause for 
anxiety; it was three days since they first encamped here, 
and on the night of their arrival they had lost a hundred 
and twenty-three of their best cattle, driven off by the 
wolves, through the neglect of the man on guard. This 
discouraging and alarming calamity was not the first that 
had overtaken them. Since leaving the settlements they 
had met with nothing but misfortune. Some of their party 
had died; one man had been killed by the Pawnees; and 
about a week before they had been plundered by the Dah- 
cotahs of all their best horses, the wretched animals on 

76 



TAKING FRENCH LEAVE 77 

which our visitors were mounted being the only ones that 
were left. They had encamped, they told us, near sunset, 
by the side of the Platte, and their oxen were scattered over 
the meadow, while the horses were feeding a little farther 
off. Suddenly the ridges of the hills were alive with a 
swarm of mounted Indians, at least six hundred in num- 
ber, who with a tremendous yell came pouring down to- 
wards the camp, rushing up within a few rods, to the 
great terror of the emigrants; when, suddenly wheeling, 
they swept around the band of horses, and in five minutes 
disappeared with their prey through the openings of the 
hills. 

As these emigrants were telling their story, we saw 

four other men approaching. They proved to be R 

and his companions, who had encountered no mischance 
of any kind, but had only wandered too far in pursuit of 
the game. They said they had seen no Indians, but only 

''millions of buffalo;" and both R and Sorel had 

meat dangling behind their saddles. 

The emigrants recrossed the river, and we prepared to 
follow. First the heavy ox-wagons plunged down the 
bank, and dragged slowly over the sand-beds; sometimes 
the hoofs of the oxen were scarcely wet by the thin sheet 
of water; and the next moment the river would be bgil- 
ing against their sides, and eddying around the wheels. 
Inch by inch they receded from the shore, dwindling 
every moment, until at length they seemed to be floating 
far out in the middle of the river. A more critical ex- 
periment awaited us; for our little mule-cart was ill-fitted 
for the passage of so swift a stream. We watched it with 
anxiety, till it seemed a motionless white speck in the 
midst of the waters; and it was motionless, for it had 
stuck fast in a quicksand. The mules were losing their 
footing, the wheels were sinking deeper and deeper, and 
the water began to rise through the bottom and drench 
the goods within. All of us who had remained on the 
hither bank galloped to the rescue; the men jumped into 
the water, adding their strength to that of the mules, until 



78 THE OIJEGOX TKAIL 

by much effort the cart was extricated, and conveyed in 
safety across. 

As we gained the other bank, a rough group of men 
surrounded us. They were not robust, nor large of frame, 
yet they had an aspect of hardy endurance. Findin<ij at 
home no scope for their energies, they had betaken them- 
selves to the prairie; and in them seemed to be revived, 
with redoubled force, that fierce spirit which impelled 
their ancestors, scarcely more lawless than themselves, 
from the German forests, to inundate Europe, and over- 
wiielm the Koman Empire. A fortnight afterwards this 
unfortunate party passed Fort Laramie, while we were 
there. Not one of their missing oxen had been recovered, 
though they had remained encamped a week in search of 
them; and they had been compelled to abandon a great 
part of their baggage and provisions, and yoke cows and 
heifers to their wagons to carry them forward upon their 
journey, the most toilsome and hazardous part of which 
lay still before them. 

It is worth noticing that on the Platte one may some- 
time see the shattered wrecks of ancient claw-footed tables, 
well waxed and rubbed, or massive bureaus of carved oak. 
These, some of them no doubt the relics of ancestral pros- 
perity in the colonial time, must have encountered strange 
vicissitudes. Imported, perhaps, originally from England ; 
then, Avith the declining fortunes of their owners, borne 
across the Alleghenies to the wilderness of Ohio or Ken- 
tucky; then to Illinois or Missouri; and now at last fondly 
stowed away in the family wagon for the interminable 
journey to Oregon. But the stern privations of the way 
are little anticipated. The cherished relic is soon flung 
out to scorch and crack upon the hot prairie. 

We resumed our journey; but we had gone scarcely a 
mile, when R called out from the rear, — 

''We'll camp here!" 

''Why do you want to camp? Look at the sun. It 
is not three o 'clock yet. " 

"We'll camp here." 



TAKING FRENCH LEAVE 79 

This was the only reply vouchsafed, Deslauriers was 
in advance with his cart. Seeing the mule-wagon wheel- 
ing from the track, he began to turn his own team in the 
same direction. 

"Go on, Deslauriers;" and the little cart advanced 
again. As we rode on, we soon heard the wagon of our 
confederates creaking and jolting behind us, and -the driver, 
Wright, discharging a furious volley of oaths against his 
mules; no doubt venting upon them the wrath which he 
dared not direct against a more appropriate object. 

Something of this sort had frequently occurred. Our 
English friend was by no means partial to us, and 
we thought we discovered in his conduct an intention to 
thwart and annoy us, especially by retarding the move- 
ments of the party, which he knew that we were anxious 
to quicken. Therefore he would insist on encamping at 
all unseasonable hours, saying that fifteen miles was a 
sufficient day's journey. Finding our wishes disregarded, 
we took the direction of affairs into our own hands. Keep- 
ing always in advance, to the inexpressible indignation 

of R , we encamped at what time and place Ave thought 

proper, not much caring whether the rest chose to follow 
or not. They always did so, however, pitching their tent 
near ours, with sullen and wrathful countenances. 

Traveling together on these terms did not suit our 
tastes, and for some time we had meditated a separation. 
"We resolved to leave camp early in the morning, and 
push forward as rapidly as possible for Fort Laramie, 
which we hoped to reach, by hard travelling, in four or 
five da.vs. The Captain soon trotted up between us, and 
we explained our intentions. 

"A very extraordinary proceeding, upon my word!'' 
he remarked. The most prominent impression in his mind 
evidently was, that we were deserting his party, in what 
he regarded as a very dangerous stage of the journey. 
We ventured to suggest that we were only four in number, 
while his party still included sixteen men ; and as we 
were to go forward and they were to follow, a full pro- 



80 THE OREGON TRAIL 

portion of the perils he apprehended would fall upon us. 
But the austerity of the Captain's features would not re- 
lax. ' ' A very extraordinary proceeding, gentlemen ! ' ' and 
repeating this, he rode off to confer with his principal. 

Before sunrise on the next morning our tent was down ; 
we harnessed our best horses to the cart and left the 
camp. But first we shook hands with our friends the 
emigrants, who sincerely wished us a safe journey, though 
some others of the party might easily have been consoled 
had we encountered an Indian war-party on the way. The 
Captain and his brother were standing on the top of a hill, 
wrapped in their plaids, like spirits of the mist, keeping 
an anxious eye on the band of horses below. We waved 
adieu to them as we rode off the ground. The Captain 
replied with a salutation of the utmost dignity, which 
Jack tried to imitate, though his effort was not very 
successful. 

In five minutes we had gained the foot of the hills, but 
here we came to a stop. Hendrick was in the shafts, and 
being the incarnation of perverse and brutish obstinacy, 
he utterly refused to move. Deslauriers lashed and swore 
till he was tired, but Hendrick stood like a rock grumbling 
to himself and looking askance at his enemy, until he saw 
a favorable opportunity to take his revenge, when he struck 
out under the shaft with such cool malignity of intention 
that Deslauriers only escaped the blow by a sudden skip 
into the air, such as no one but a Frenchman could achieve. 
Shaw and he then joined forces, and lashed on both sides 
at once. The brute stood still for a while, till he could 
bear it no longer, when he began to kick and plunge till 
he threatened the utter demolition of the cart and harness. 
We glanced back at the camp, which was in full sight. 
Our companions, inspired by emulation, were levelling 
their tents and driving in their cattle and horses. 

"Take the horse out," said I. 

I took the saddle from Pontiac and put it upon Hen- 
drick ; the former was harnessed to the cart in an instant. 
^^Avancc done!" cried Deslauriers. Pontiac strode up 



TAKING FRENCH LEAVE 81 

the hill, twitching the little cart after him as if it were a 
feather's weight; and though, as we gained the top, we 
saw the wagons of our deserted comrades just getting into 
motion, we had little fear that they could overtake us. 

Leaving the trail, we struck directly across the country, 
and took the shortest cut to reach the main stream of the 
Platte. A deep ravine suddenly intercepted us. We 
skirted its sides until we found them less abrupt, and 
then plunged through in the best way we could. Passing 
behind the sandy ravines called ''Ash Hollow," we stopped 
for a short nooning at the side of a pool of rain-water; 
but soon resumed our journey, and some hours before 
sunset descended the ravines and gorges opening down- 
ward upon the Platte west of Ash Hollow. Our horses 
waded to the fetlock in sand ; the sun scorched like fire, 
and the air swarmed with sand-flies and mosquitoes. 

At last we gained the Platte. Following it for about 
five miles, we saw, just as the sun was sinking, a great 
meadow, dotted with hundreds of cattle, and beyond them 
an emigrant encampment. A party of about a dozen came 
out to meet us, looking upon us at first with cold and 
suspicious faces. Seeing four men different in appear- 
ance and equipment from themselves, emerging from the 
hills, they had taken us for the van of the much-dreaded 
IMormons, whom they were very apprehensive of encounter- 
ing. We made known our true character, and then they 
greeted us cordiall}^ They expressed much surprise that 
so small a party should venture to traverse that region, 
though in fact such attempts are often made by trappers 
and Indian traders. We rode with them to their camp. 
The wagons, some fifty in number, with here and there a 
tent intervening, were arranged as usual in a circle ; in the 
area within, the best horses were picketed, and the whole 
circumference was glowing with the dusky light of fires, 
displaying the forms of the women and children who were 
crowded around them. This patriarchal scene was curious 
and striking enough; but we made our escape from the 
place with all possible dispatch, being tormented by the 



82 THE OREGON TRAIL 

intrusive curiosity of the men who crowded around us. 
Yankee curiosity was nothing to theirs. They demanded 
our names, where we came from, where we were going, 
and what was our business. The last query was par- 
ticularly embarrassing; since traveling in that country, or 
indeed anywhere, from any other motive than gain, was 
an idea of which they took no cognizance. Yet they were 
fine-looking fellows, with an air of frankness, generosity, 
and even courtesy, having come from one of the least bar- 
barous of the frontier counties. 

We passed about a mile beyond them, and encamped. 
Being too few in number to stand guard without excessive 
fatigue, we extinguished our fire, lest it should attract the 
notice of wandering Indians ; and, picketing our horses 
close around us, slept undisturbed till morning. For three 
days we travelled without interruption, and on the even- 
ing of the third encamped by the well-known spring on 
Scott's Bluff.i 

Henry Chatillon and I rode out in the morning, and, 
descending the western side of the Bluff, were crossing 
the plain beyond. Something that seemed to me a file of 
buffalo came into view, descending the hills several miles 
before us. But Henry reined in his horse, and, peering 
across the prairie with a better and more practised eye, 
soon discovered its real nature. "Indians!" he said. "Old 
Smoke's lodges, I b'lieve. Come ; let us go ! Wah ! get up, 
now, 'Five Hundred Dollar.' " And laying on the lash 
with good will, he galloped forward, and I rode by his side. 
Not long after, a black speck became visible on the prairie, 
full two miles off. It grew larger and larger; it assumed 
the form of a man and horse ; and soon we could discern a 
naked Indian, careering at full gallop toward us. When 
within a furlong he wheeled his horse in a wide circle, and 
made him describe various mystic figures upon the prairie ; 
Henry immediately compelled "Five Hundred Dollar" to 

1 Named after an emigrant who came to his death there. The 
name remains in one of the counties of Nebraska. 



TAKING FRENCH LEAVE 83 

execute similar evolutions. ''It is Old Smoke's village,'' 
said he, interpreting these signals; ''didn't I say so?" 

As the Indian approached we stopped to wait for him, 
when suddenly he vanished, sinking, as it were, into the 
earth. He had come upon one of the deep ravines that 
everywhere intersect these prairies. In an instant the 
rough head of his horse stretched upward from the edge, 
and the rider and steed came scrambling out, and bounded 
up to us; a sudden jerk of the rein brought the wild 
panting horse to a full stop. Then followed the needful 
formality of shaking hands. I forget our visitor's name. 
He was a j^oung fellow, of no note in his nation; yet in 
his person and equipments he was a good specimen of a 
Dahcotah warrior in his ordinary traveling dress. Like 
most of his people, he was nearly six feet high ; lithely 
and gracefully, yet strongly proportioned; and with a skin 
singularly clear and delicate. He wore no paint ; his head 
was bare; and his long hair was gathered in a clump be- 
hind, to the top of which was attached transversely, both by 
way of ornament and of talisman, the mystic whistle, made 
of the wing-bone of the war-eagle, and endowed with various 
magic virtues. From the back of his head descended a 
line of glittering brass plates, tapering from the size of a 
doubloon ^ to that of a half-dime, a cumbrous ornament, in 
high vogue among the Dahcotahs, and for which they pay 
the traders a most extravagant price ; his chest and arms 
were naked, the buffalo robe, worn over them when at rest, 
had fallen about his waist, and was confined there by a 
belt. This, with the gay moccasins on his feet, completed 
his attire. For arms he carried a quiver of dog-skin at his 
back, and a rude but powerful bow in his hand. His horse 
had no bridle ; a cord of hair, lashed around his jaw, served 
in place of one. The saddle was singularly constructed ; it 
was made of wood covered with raw hide, and both pommel 
and cantle rose perpendicularly full eighteen inches, so 
that the warrior was wedged firmly in his seat, whence 

2 A Spanish gold coin, worth about eight dollars. 



84 THE OREGON TRAIL 

nothinof could dislodge him but the bursting of the girths. 
Advancing with our new companion, we found more of 
his people, seated in a circle on the top of a hill; while a 
rude procession came straggling do\\Ti the neighboring 
hollow, men, women, and children, with horses dragging 
the lodge-poles behind them. All that morning, as we 
moved forward, tall savages were stalking silently about 
us. At noon we reached Horse Creek. The main body 
of the Indians had arrived before us. On the farther 
bank stood a large and strong man, nearly naked, hold- 
ing a white horse by a long cord, and eyeing us as we 
approached. This was the chief, whom Henry called 
^ ' Old Smoke. ' ' Just behind him, his youngest and favorite 
squaw sat astride a fine mule, covered with caparisons 
of whitened skins, garnished with blue and white beads, 
and fringed with little ornaments of metal that tinkled 
with every movement of the animal. The girl had a light 
clear complexion, enlivened by a spot of vermilion on each 
cheek ; she smiled, not to say grinned, upon us, showing two 
gleaming rows of white teeth. In her hand she carried the 
tall lance of her unchivalrous lord, fluttering with feathers ; 
his round white shield hung at the side of her mule; and 
his pipe was slung at her back. Her dress was a tunic of 
deer-skin, made beautifully white by means of a species of 
clay found on the prairie, ornamented with beads, arranged 
in figures more gay than tasteful, and with long fringes at 
all the seams. Not far from the chief stood a group of 
stately figures, their white buffalo-robes thrown over their 
shoulders, gazing coldly upon us; and in the rear, for sev- 
eral acres, the ground was covered with a temporary en- 
campment. Men, women, and children swarmed like bees; 
hundreds of dogs, of all sizes and colors, ran restlessly 
about; and close at hand, the wide shallow stream was 
alive with boys, girls, and young squaws, splashing, scream- 
ing, and laughing in the water. At the same time a long 
train of emigrant wagons was crossing the creek, and 
dragging on in slow procession by the encampment of the 



TAKING FRENCH LEAVE 85 

people whom they and their descendants, in the space of a 
century, are to sweep from the face of the earth. 

The encampment itself was merety a temporary one 
during the heat of the day. None of the lodges were 
erected; but their heavy leather coverings, and the long 
poles used to support them, were scattered everywhere, 
among weapons, domestic utensils, and the rude harness 
of mules and horses. The squaws of each lazy warrior 
had made him a shelter from the sun, by stretching a few 
buffalo-robes, or the corner of a lodge-covering, upon 
poles; and here he sat in the shade, with a favorite young 
squaw, perhaps, at his side, glittering with all imaginable 
trinkets. Before him stood the insignia of his rank as a 
warrior, his white shield of bull-hide, his medicine-bag, 
his bow and quiver, his lance and his pipe, raised aloft 
on a tripod of poles. Except the dogs, .the most active 
and noisy tenants of the camp were the old women, ugly 
as Macbeth 's witches, with hair streaming loose in the 
wind, and nothing but the tattered fragments of an old 
buffalo-robe to hide their shrivelled limbs. The day of 
their favoritism passed two generations ago; now, the 
heaviest labors of the camp devolved upon them; they 
must harness the horses, pitch the lodges, dress the buffalo- 
robes, and bring in meat for the hunters. With the cracked, 
voices of these hags, the clamor of dogs, the shouting and 
laughing of children and girls, and the listless tranquillity 
of the warriors, the whole scene had an effect too lively and 
picturesque to be forgotten. 

We stopped not far from the Indian camp, and having 
invited some of the chiefs and warriors to dinner, placed 
before them a repast of biscuit and coffee. Squatted in a 
half circle on the ground, they soon disposecl of it. As 
we rode forward on the afternoon journey, several of our 
late guests accompanied us. Among the rest was a bloated 
savage, of more than three hundred pounds' weight, 
christened Le Cochon, in consideration of his preposterous 
dimensions, and certain corresponding traits of his charac- 



86 THE OREGON TRAIL 

ter. ''The Hog" bestrode a little white pony, scarcely 
able to bear up under the enormous burden, though, by way 
of keeping up the necessary stimulus, the rider kept both 
feet in constant motion, playing alternately against his ribs. 
The old man was not a chief ; he never had ambition enough 
to become one; he was not a warrior nor a hunter, for he 
was too fat and lazy; but he was the richest man in the 
village. Riches among the Dahcotahs consist in horses, 
and of these ''The Hog" had accumulated more than thirty. 
He had already ten times as many as he wanted, yet still 
his appetite for horses was insatiable. Trotting up to me, 
he shook me by the hand, and gave me to understand that 
he was a very devoted friend; then he began a series of 
most earnest signs and gesticulations, his oily countenance 
radiant with smiles, and his little eyes peeping out with a 
cunning twinkle from between the masses of flesh that 
almost obscured them. Knowing nothing at that time of 
the sign-language of the Indians, I could only guess at 
his meaning. So I called on Henry to explain it. 

"The Hog," it seems, was anxious to conclude a mat- 
rimonial bargain. He said he had a very pretty daughter 
whom he would give me for my horse. These flattering 
overtures I chose to reject; at which "The Hog," still 
laughing with undiminished good humor, gathered his robe 
about his shoulders, and rode away. 

Where we encamped that night, an arm of the Platte 
ran between high bluffs; it was turbid and swift as here- 
tofore, but trees were growing on its crumbling banks 
and there was a nook of grass between the water and the 
hill. Just before entering this place, we saw the emi- 
grants encamping two or three miles distant on the right ; 
while the whole Indian rabble were pouring down the neigh- 
boring hill in hope of the same sort of entertainment which 
they had experienced from us. In the savage landscape be- 
fore our camp, nothing but the rushing of the Platte broke 
the silence. Through the ragged boughs of the trees, dilapi- 
dated and half dead, we saw the sun setting in crimson 



TAKIXG FRENCH LEAVE 87 

behind the peaks of the Black Hills ; ^ the restless bosom of 
the river was suffused with red ; our Avhite tent w^as tinged 
with it, and the sterile bluffs, up to the rocks that crowned 
them, partook of the same fiery hue. It soon passed away ; 
no light remained but that from our fire, blazing high 
among the dusky trees and bushes, while we la^^ around it 
wrapped in our blankets, smoking and conversing until a 
late hour and then withdrew to our tent. 

We crossed a sun-scorched plain on the next morning; 
the line of old cotton-wood trees that fringed the bank of 
the Platte forming its extreme verge. Nestled close be- 
neath them, we could discern in the distance something 
like a building. As we came nearer, it assumed form 
and dimensions, and proved to be a rough structure of 
logs. It was a little trading fort, belonging to two private 
traders, and originally intended, like all the forts of the 
country, to form a hollow square, with rooms for lodging 
and storage opening upon the area within. Only two 
sides of it had been completed; the place Avas now as 
ill-fitted for the purposes of defence as any of those 
little log-houses, which upon our constantly-shifting fron- 
tier have been so often successfully maintained against over- 
whelming odds of Indians. Two lodges were pitched close 
to the fort ; the sun beat scorching upon the logs ; no living 
thing was stirring except one old squaw, who thrust her 
round head from the opening of the nearest lodge, and 
three or four stout young pups, who were peeping with 
looks of eager inquiry from under the covering. In a mo- 
ment a door opened, and a little, swarthy, black-eyed 
Frenchman came out. His dress was rather singular; his 
black curling hair was parted in the middle of his head, 
and fell below his shoulders ; he wore a tight frock of smoked 
deer-skin, gayly ornamented with figures worked in dyed 
porcupine-c[uills. His moccasins and leggins were also 
gaudily adorned in the same manner; and the latter had 

3 Not the mountains of Dakota now so named, but a range further 
west in Wyoming. 



88 THE OREGON TRAIL 

in addition a line of long fringes, reaching down the seams. 
The small frame of Richard, for by this name Henry made 
him known to us, was in the highest degree athletic and 
vigorous. There was no superfluity, and indeed there sel- 
dom is among the white men of this country, but every 
limb was compact and hard ; every sinew had its full tone 
and elasticity', and the whole man w^ore an air of mingled 
hardihood and buoyancy. 

Richard committed our horses to a Navaho * slave, a 
mean-looking fellow, taken prisoner on the Mexican fron- 
tier; and, relieving us of our rifles with ready politeness, 
led the way into the principal apartment of his establish- 
ment. This was a room ten feet square. The walls and 
floor were of black mud, and the roof of rough timber; 
there was a huge fireplace made of four flat rocks, picked 
up on the prairie. An Indian bow and otter-skin quiver, 
several gaudy articles of Rocky Mountain finery, an Indian 
medicine-bag, and a pipe and tobacco-pouch, garnished 
the walls, and rifles rested in a corner. There was no 
furniture except a sort of rough settle, covered with buf- 
falo-robes, upon which lolled a tall half-breed with his 
hair glued in masses upon each temple, and saturated with 
vermilion. Two or three more ''mountain men" sat cross- 
legged on the floor. Their attire was not unlike that of 
Richard himself ; but the most striking figure of the group 
was a naked Indian boy of sixteen, with a handsome face, 
and light, active proportions, who sat in an easy posture in 
the corner near the door. Not one of his limbs moved the 
the breadth of a hair ; his eye was fixed immovably, not on 
an}^ person present, but, as it appeared, on the projecting 
corner of the fireplace opposite to him. 

On the prairie the custom of smoking with friends is 
seldom omitted, whether among -Indians or whites. The 
pipe, therefore, was taken from the wall, and its red bowl 
crammed with tobacco and sJiongsasha,^ mixed in suit- 
able proportions. Then it passed round the circle, each 

4 The Navahoes are an Indian tribe of the far Southwest. 

5 Bark of the red willow, which they mixed with tobacco. 



TAKING FRENCH LEAVE 89 

man inhaling a few whiffs and handing it to his neighbor. 
Having spent half an hour here, Ave took our leave; first 
inviting our new friends to drink a cup of coffee with us 
at our camp a mile farther up the river. 

By this time we had grown rather shabby; our clothes 
had burst into rags and tatters ; and, what was worse, we 
had little means of renovation. Fort Laramie was but 
seven miles before us. Being averse to appearing in 
such a plight among any society that could boast an ap- 
proximation to the civilized, we stopped by the river to 
make our toilet in the best way we could. We hung up 
small looking-glasses against the trees and shaved, an 
operation neglected for six weeks; we performed our 
ablutions in the Platte, though the utility of such a pro- 
ceeding was questionable, the water looking exactly like 
a cup of chocolate, and the banks consisting of the softest 
and richest yellow mud, so that we were obliged, as a 
preliminary, to build a causeway of branches and twigs. 
Having also put on radiant moccasins, procured from a 
squaw of Kichard's establishment, and made what other 
improvements our narrow circumstances allowed, we took 
our seats on the grass with a feeling of greatly increased 
respectability, to await the arrival of our guests. They 
came; the banquet was concluded, and the pipe smpked. 
Bidding them adieu, we turned our horses' heads towards 
the fort. 

An hour elapsed. The barren hills closed across our 
front, and we could see no further; until, having sur- 
mounted them, a rapid stream appeared at the foot of the 
descent, running into the Platte; beyond was a green 
meadow, dotted with bushes, and in the midst of these, 
at the point where the two rivers joined, were the low 
clay walls of a fort. This was not Fort Laramie, but an- 
other post, of less recent date, which having sunk before 
its successful competitor, was now deserted and ruinous. 
A moment after, the hills seeming to draw apart as we 
advanced, disclosed Fort Laramie itself, its high bastions 
and perpendicular walls of clay crowning an eminence on 



90 THE OREGON TRAIL 

the left beyond the stream, while behind stretched a line of 
arid and desolate ridges, and behind these again, towering 
aloft seven thousand feet, rose the grim Black Hills. 

We tried to ford Laramie Creek at a point nearly op- 
posite the fort, but the stream, swollen with rains, was 
too rapid. We passed up along its banks to find a better 
crossing place. Men gathered on the wall to look at us. 
*' There's Bordeaux!" called Henry, his face brighten- 
ing as he recognized his acquaintance; ''him there with 
the spy-glass; and there's old Vaskiss, and Tucker, and 
Kay ; and, by George ! there 's Simoneau. ' ' This Simoneau 
was Henry's fast friend, and the only man in the country 
who could rival him in hunting. 

We soon found a ford. Henry led the ,way, the pony 
approaching the bank with a countenance of cool indiffer- 
ence, bracing his feet and sliding into the stream with 
the most unmoved composure. We followed; the water 
boiled against our saddles, but our horses bore us easily 
through. The unfortunate little mules came near going 
down with the current, cart and all; and we watched 
them with some solicitude scrambling over the loose round 
stones at the bottom, and bracing stoutly against the 
stream. All landed safely at last ; we crossed a little plain, 
descended a hollow, and, riding up a steep bank, found 
ourselves before the gateway of Fort Laramie, under the 
impending blockhouse erected above it to defend the en- 
trance. 



CHAPTER IX 

SCENES AT FORT LARAMIE 

Looking back, after the expiration of a year, upon Fort 
Laramie and its inmates, they seem less like a reality 
than like some fanciful picture of the olden time ; so 
different was the scene from any which this tamer side of 
the world can present. Tall Indians, enveloped in their 
white buffalo-robes, were striding across the area or re- 
clining at full length on the low roofs of the buildings 
which enclosed it. Numerous squaws, gayly bedizened, sat 
grouped in front of the apartments they occupied; their 
mongrel offspring, restless and vociferous, rambled in every 
direction through the fort; and the trappers, traders, and 
engages of the establishment were busy at their labor or 
their amusements. 

AVe were met at the gate, but b}^ no means cordially wel- 
comed. Indeed, we seemed objects of some distrust and 
suspicion, until Henry Chatillon explained that we were 
not traders, and we, in confirmation, handed to the bour- 
geois a letter of introduction from his principals. He took 
it, turned it upside down, and tried hard to read it; but 
his literary attainments not being adequate to the task, 
he applied for relief to the clerk, a sleek, smiling French- 
man, named Monthalon. The letter read, Bordeaux (the 
bourgeois) seemed gradually to awaken to a sense of what 
was expected of him. Though not deficient in hospitable 
intentions, he was wholly unaccustomed to act as master of 
ceremonies. Discarding all formalities of reception, he did 
not honor us with a single word, but walked swiftly across 
the area, while we followed in some admiration to a 
railing and a flight of steps opposite the entrance. He 
signed to us that we had better fasten our horses to the 

91 



92 THE OREGON TRAIL 

railing > then he walked up the steps, tramped along a rude 
balcony, and, kicking open a door, displayed a large room, 
rather more elaborately furnished than a barn. For furni- 
ture it had a rough bedstead, but no bed ; two chairs, a chest 
of drawers, a tin pail to hold water, and a board to cut 
tobacco upon. A brass crucifix hung on the wall, and close 
at hand a recent scalp, ^ with hair full a yard long, was sus- 
pended from a nail. I shall again have occasion to mention 
this dismal trophy, its history being connected with that of 
our subsequent proceedings. 

This apartment, the best in Fort Laramie, was that 
usually occupied by the legitimate bourgeois, Papin, in 
whose absence the command devolved upon Bordeaux. 
The latter, a stout, bluff little fellow, much inflated by a 
sense of his new authority, began to roar for buffalo-robes. 
These being brought and spread upon the floor, formed 
our beds; much better ones than we had of late been ac- 
customed to. Our arrangements made, we stepped out to 
the balcony to take a more leisurely survey of the long 
looked-for haven at which we had at last arrived. Beneath 
us was the square area surrounded b}^ little rooms, or rather 
cells, which opened upon it. These were devoted to various 
purposes, but served chiefly for the accommodation of the 
men employed at the fort, or of the equall^^ numerous 
squaws whom they were allowed to maintain in it. Op- 
posite to us rose the blockhouse above the gateway; it was 
adorned with the figure of a horse at full speed, daubed 
upon the boards with red paint, and exhibiting a degree 
of skill which might rival that displayed by the Indians 
in executing similar designs upon their robes and lodges. 
A busy scene was enacting in the area. The wagons of 
Vaskiss,- an old trader, were about to set out for a remote 
post in the mountains, and the Canadians were going 
through their preparations with all possible bustle, while 

1 See p. 105. 

2 A well-known figure in frontier history. His name was more 
correctly spelt Vasquez. 



SCENES AT FORT LARAMIE 93 

here and there an Indian stood looking on with imper- 
turbable gravity. 

Fort Laramie is one of the posts established by the 
' ' American Fur Company, ' ' ^ which well-nigh monopolizes 
the Indian trade of this region. Here its officials rule 
with an absolute sway; the arm of the United States has 
little force; for when we were there, the extreme outposts 
of her troops were about seven hundred miles to the east- 
ward. The little fort is built of bricks dried in the sun, 
and externally is of an oblong form, Avith bastions of 
clay, in the form of ordinary blockhouses, at two of the 
corners. The walls are about fifteen feet high, and sur- 
mounted by a slender palisade. The roofs of the apart- 
ments within, which are built close against the walls, 
serve the purpose of a banquette. Within, the fort is 
divided by a partition: on one side is the square area, 
surrounded by the store-rooms, offices, and apartments of 
the inmates; on the other is the corral, a narrow place, 
encompassed by the high clay walls, where at night, or in 
presence of dangerous Indians, the horses and mules of 
the fort are crowded for safe keeping. The main entrance 
has two gates, with an arched passage intervening. A 
little square window, high above the ground, opens later- 
ally from an adjoining chamber into this passage; so that 
when the inner gate is closed and barred, a person with- 
out may still hold communication with those within, 
through this narrow aperture. This obviates the necessity 
of admitting suspicious Indians, for purposes of trading, 
into the bod}^ of the fort ; for when clanger is apprehended, 
the inner gate is shut fast, and all traffic is carried on by 
means of the window. This precaution, though necessary 
at some of the Company's posts, is seldom resorted to at 
Fort Laramie ; where, though men are frequently killed in 
the neighborhood, no apprehensions are felt of any general 
designs of hostility from the Indians. 

3 See the Introduction, p. xvii. Eort Laramie was sold to the 
government in 1849. 



94 THE OKEGON TRAIL 

We did not long enjoy our new quarters undisturbed. 
The door was silently pushed open, and two eyeballs and 
a visage as black as night looked in upon us; then a red 
arm and shoulder intruded themselves, and a tall Indian, 
gliding in, shook us by the hand, grunted his salutation, 
and sat down on the floor. Others followed, with faces 
of the natural hue, and letting fall their heavy robes from 
their shoulders, took their seats, cjuite at ease, in a semi- 
circle before us. The pipe was now to be lighted and 
passed from one to another; and this was the only enter- 
tainment that at present they expected from us. These 
visitors were fathers, brothers, or other relatives of the 
squaws in the fort, where they w^re permitted to remain, 
loitering about in perfect idleness. All those who smoked 
with us were men of standing and repute. Two or three 
others dropped in also; young fellows who neither by 
their years nor their exploits were entitled to rank wnth 
the old men and warriors, and who, abashed in the presence 
of their superiors, stood aloof, never withdrawing their 
eyes from us. Their cheeks were adorned with vermilion, 
their ears with pendants of shell, and their necks with 
beads. Never yet having signalized themselves as hunters, 
or performed the honorable exploit of killing a man, they 
were held in slight esteem, and were diffident and bash- 
ful in proportion. Certain formidable inconveniences at- 
tended this influx of visitors. They were bent on inspect- 
ing every thing in the room ; our equipments and our dress 
alike underwent their scrutiny; for though the contrary 
has been asserted, few beings have more curiosity than 
Indians in regard to subjects within their ordinary range 
of thought. As to other matters, indeed, the}^ seem utterly 
indifferent. They will not trouble themselves to inquire 
into what they cannot comprehend, but are quite contented 
to place their hands over their mouths in token of wonder, 
and exclaim that it is "great medicine." With this com- 
prehensive solution, an Indian never is at a loss. He never 
launches into speculation and conjecture; his reason moves 
in its beaten track. His soul is dormant ; and no exertions 



SCENES AT FORT LARAMIE 95 

of the missionaries, Jesuit or Puritan, of the old world or 
of the new, have as yet availed to arouse it. 

As we were looking, at sunset, from' the wall, upon the 
desolate plains that surround the fort, we observed a 
cluster of strange objects, like scaffolds, rising in the dis- 
tance against the reel western sky. They bore aloft some 
singular-looking burdens; and at their foot glimmered 
something white, like bones. This was the place of sepul, 
ture of some Dahcotah chiefs, whose remains their people 
are fond of placing in the vicinity of the fort, in the hope 
that they may thus be protected from violation at the 
hands of their enemies. Yet it has happened more than 
once, and quite recently, that war parties of the Crow 
Indians, ranging through the country, have thrown the 
bodies from the scaffolds, and broken them to pieces, amid 
the yells of the Dahcotah, who remained pent up in the 
fort, too few to defend the honored relics from insult. 
The white objects upon the ground were buffalo skulls, 
arranged in the m^'stic circle, commonly seen at Indian 
places of sepulture upon the prairie. 

We soon discovered, in the twilight, a band of fifty or 
sixty horses approaching the fort. These were the animals 
belonging to the establishment ; which, having been sent out 
to feed under the care of armed guards in the meadows 
below, were now being driven into the corral for the night. 
A gate opened into this inclosure : by the side of it stood 
one of the guards, an old Canadian, with gray bushy eye- 
brows, and a dragoon-pistol stuck into his belt ; while his 
comrade, mounted on horseback, his rifle laid across the 
saddle in front, and his long hair blowing before his 
swarthy face, rode at the rear of the disorderly troop, urg- 
ing them up 'the ascent. In a moment the narrow corral 
was thronged with the half-wild horses, kicking, biting, 
and crowding restlessly together. 

The discordant jingling of a bell, rung by a Canadian 
in the area, summoned us to supper. The repast was 
served on a rough table in one of the lower apartments 
of the fort, and consisted of cakes of bread and dried buffalo 



96 THE OREGON TRAIL 

meat — an excellent thing for strengthening the teeth. At 
this meal were seated the bourgeois and superior digni- 
taries of the establishment, among whom Henry Chatillon 
was worthily included. No sooner was it finished, than the 
table was spread a second time (the luxury of bread being 
now, however, omitted), for the benefit of certain hunters 
and trappers of an inferior standing; while the ordinary 
Canadian engages were regaled on dried meat in one of 
their lodging rooms. By way of illustrating the domestic 
economy of Fort Laramie, it may not be amiss to introduce 
in this place a story current among the men when we were 
there. 

There was an old man named Pierre, whose duty it was 
to bring the meat from the store-room for the men. Old 
Pierre, in the kindness of his heart, used to select the 
fattest and the best pieces for his companions. This did 
not long escape the keen-eyed lourgeois, who was greatly 
disturbed at such improvidence, and cast about for some 
means to stop it. At last he hit on a plan that exactly 
suited him. At the side of the meat-room, and separated 
from it by a clay partition was another apartment, used 
for the storage of furs. It had no communication with 
the fort except through a square hole in the partition; 
and of course it was perfectly dark. One evening the 
'bourgeois, watching for a moment when no one observed 
him, dodged into the meat-room, clambered through the 
hole, and ensconced himself among the furs and buffalo- 
robes. Soon after, old Pierre came in with his lantern; 
and, muttering to himself, began to pull over the bales 
of meat, and select the best pieces, as usual. But suddenly 
a hollow and sepulchral voice proceeded from the inner 
room: ''Pierre, Pierre! Let that fat meat alone. Take 
nothing but lean." Pierre dropped his lantern, and 
bolted out into the fort, screaming, in an agony of terror, 
that the devil was in the store-room; but tripping on the 
threshold, he pitched over upon the gravel, and lay sense- 
less, stunned by the fall. The Canadians ran out to the 
rescue. Some lifted the unlucky Pierre ; and others, mak- 



SCENES AT FORT LARA:MIE 97 

ing an extempore crucifix of two sticks, were proceeding to 
attack the devil in his stronghold, when the bourgeois, with 
a crestfallen countenance, appeared at the door. To add 
to his mortification, he was obliged to explain the whole 
stratagem to Pierre, in order to bring him to his senses. 

We were sitting, on the following morning, in the 
passage-way between the gates, conversing with the traders 
Vaskiss and May. These two men, together with our sleek 
friend, the clerk ]Monthalon, were, I believe, the only 
persons then in the fort who could read and write. May 
was telling a curious story about the traveller Catlin,"^ 
when an ugly, diminutive Indian, wretchedly mounted, 
came up at a gallop, and rode by us into the fort. On 
being questioned, he said that Smoke's village was close 
at hand. Accordingly only a few minutes elapsed before 
the hills beyond the river were covered with a disorderly 
swarm of savages, on horseback and on foot. ]\Iay finished 
his story ; and by that time the whole array had descended 
to Laramie Creek, and begun to cross it in a mass. I 
walked down to the bank. The stream is wide, and was 
then between three and four feet deep, with a very swift 
current. For several rods the water was alive with dogs, 
horses, and Indians. The long poles used in erecting the 
lodges are carried by the horses, fastened by the heavier 
end, two or three on each side, to a rude sort of pack-saddle, 
while the other end drags on the ground. About a foot 
behind the horse, a kind of large basket or pannier is sus- 
pended between the poles, and firmly lashed in its place. 
On the back of the horse are piled various articles of 
luggage; the basket also is w^ell filled with domestic 
utensils, or, quite as often, with a litter of puppies, a brood 
of small children, or a superannuated old man. Numbers 
of these curious vehicles, called in the bastard language 

4 George Catlin conceived and carried out the plan of illustrating 
Indian life by pictures and collections. Beginning in 1832 he 
traveled all over the western country and painted about 500 por- 
traits of Indians, beside many other pictures. His pictures and 
collections are now in the Smithsonian. For his book, see the bib- 
liography, p. XXX. 



98 THE OREGON TRAIL 

of the country, travaux, were now splashing together 
through the stream. Among them swam countless dogs, 
often burdened with miniature travaux; and dashing for- 
ward on horseback through the throng came the warriors, 
the slender figure of some lynx-eyed boy clinging fast be- 
hind them. The women sat perched on the pack-saddles, 
adding not a little to the load of the already overburdened 
horses. The confusion was prodigious. The dogs yelled 
and howled in chorus; the puppies in the travaux set up a 
dismal whine as the water invaded their comfortable re- 
treat; the little black-eyed children, from one year of age 
upward, clung fast with both hands to the edge of their 
basket, and looked over in alarm at the water rushing so 
near them, sputtering and making wry mouths as it 
splashed against their faces. Some of the dogs, en- 
cumbered by their load, were carried do^\m by the current, 
yelping piteously ; and the old squaws would rush into the 
water, seize their favorites by the neck, and drag them 
out. As each horse gained the bank, he scrambled up as he 
could. Stra}^ horses and colts came among the rest, often 
breaking away at full speed through the crowd, followed 
by the old hags, screaming after their fashion on all 
occasions of excitement. Buxom young squaws, blooming 
in all the charms of vermilion, stood here and there on 
the bank, holding aloft their master's lance, as a signal 
to collect the scattered portions of his household. In a 
few moments the crowd melted away ; each family, with its 
horses and equipage, filing off to the plain at the rear of 
the fort; and here, in the space of half an hour, arose 
sixty or seventy of their tapering lodges. Their horses 
were feeding by hundreds over the surrounding prairie, 
and their dogs were roaming everywhere. The fort was 
full of men, and the children were whooping and yelling 
incessantly under the walls. 

These new-comers were scarcely arrived, when Bor- 
deaux ran across the fort, shouting to his squaw to bring 
him his spy-glass. The obedient Marie, the very model 
of a squaw, produced the instrument, and Bordeaux 



SCENES AT FORT LARA^IIE 99 

hurried with it to the wall. Pointing it eastward, he ex- 
claimed, with an oath, that the families were coming. 
But a few minutes elapsed before the heavy caravan of 
the emigrant wagons could be seen, steadily advancing 
from the hills. They gained the river, and, without turn- 
ing or pausing, plunged in. Passing through, and slowly 
ascending the opposing bank, they kept directly on their 
way by the fort and the Indian village, until, gaining a 
spot a quarter of a mile distant, they wheeled into a circle. 
For some time our tranquillity was undisturbed. The emi- 
grants were preparing their encampment; but no sooner 
was this accomplished, than Fort Laramie was taken by 
storm. A crowd of broad-brimmed hats, thin visages, and 
staring eyes, appeared suddenly at the gate. Tall, awk- 
ward men, in brown homespun; women, with cadaverous 
faces and long lank figures, came thronging in together, 
and, as if inspired by the very demon of curiosity, ran- 
sacked every nook and corner of the fort. Dismayed at 
this invasion, we withdrew in all speed to our chamber, 
vainly hoping that it might prove a sanctuary. The 
emigrants prosecuted their investigations with untiring 
vigor. They penetrated the rooms, or rather dens, in- 
habited by the astonished squaws. They explored the 
apartments of the men, and even that of Marie and the 
bourgeois. At last a numerous deputation appeared at our 
door, but were immediately expelled. 

Having at length satisfied their curiosity, they next 
proceeded to business. The men occupied themselves in 
procuring supplies for their onward journey ; either buying 
them, or giving in exchange superfluous articles of their 
own. 

The emigrants felt a violent prejudice against the 
French Indians, as they called the trappers and traders. 
They thought, and with some justice, that these men bore 
them no good-will. Many of them were firmly persuaded 
that the French were instigating the Indians to attack 
and cut them off. On visiting the encampment we were 
at once struck with the extraordinary perplexity and in- 



100 THE OREGON TRAIL 

decision that prevailed among them. They seemed like 
men totally out of their element; bewildered and amazed, 
like a troop of schoolboys lost in the woods. It was im- 
possible to be long among them without being conscious- of 
the bold spirit with which most of them were animated. 
But the forest is the home of the backwoods-man. On 
the remote prairie he is totally at a loss. He differs as 
much from the genuine '' mountain-man " as a Canadian 
voyageur,^ paddling his canoe on the rapids of the Ottawa, 
differs from an American sailor among the storms of Cape 
Horn. Still my companion and I were somewhat at a loss 
to account for this perturbed state of mind. It could 
not be cowardice: these men were of the same stock w^th 
the volunteers of Monterey and Buena Vista.® Yet, for 
the most part, they were the rudest and most ignorant of 
the frontier population; they knew absolutely nothing of 
the country and its inhabitants; they had already ex- 
perienced much misfortune, and apprehended more ; they 
had seen nothing of mankind, and had never put their 
own resources to the test. 

A full share of suspicion fell upon us. Being strangers, 
we were looked upon as enemies. Having occasion for a 
supply of lead and a few other necessary articles, we used 
to go over to the emigrant camps to obtain them. After 
some hesitation, some dubious glances, and fumbling of 
the hands in the pockets, the terms would be agreed upon, 
the price tendered, and the emigrant would go off to bring 
the article in question. After waiting until our patience 
gave out, we would go in search of him, and find him seated 
on the tongue of his wagon. 

''Well, stranger," he would observe, as he saw us ap- 
proach, "I reckon I won't trade." 

Some friend of his had followed him from the scene of 
the bargain, and suggested that clearly we meant to cheat 
him, and he had better have nothing to do with us. 

5 An employe of the Hudson Bay Company used for service in the 
woods and on the rivers. 

6 Battles of the Mexican war of the next year. 



SCENES AT FORT LARAMIE 101 

This timorous mood of the emigrants was doubly un- 
fortunate, as it exposed them to real danger. Assume, in 
the presence of Indians, a bold bearing, self-confident yet 
vigilant, and you will find them tolerably safe neighbors. 
But your safety depends on the respect and fear you are 
able to inspire. If you betray timidity or indecision, you 
convert them from that moment into insidious and danger- 
ous enemies. The Dahcotah saw clearly enough the per- 
turbation of the emigrants, and instantly availed them- 
selves of it. They became extremely insolent and exacting 
in their demands. It has become an established custom 
with them to go to the camp of every party, as it arrives 
in succession at the fort, and demand a feast. Smoke's 
village had come with this express design, having made 
several days' journey with no other object than that of 
enjoying a cup of coffee and two or three biscuit. So the 
''feast" was demanded, and the emigrants dared not re- 
fuse it. 

One evening, about sunset, the village was deserted. 
We met old men, warriors, squaws, and children in gay 
attire, trooping off to the encampment, with faces of an- 
ticipation ; and, arriving here, they seated themselves in 
a semicircle. Smoke occupied the centre, with his war- 
riors on either hand; the 3^oung men and boys were next, 
and the squaws and children formed the horns of ' the 
crescent. The biscuit and coffee were promptly de- 
spatched, the emigrants staring open-mouthed at their 
savage guests. With each emigrant party that arrived 
at Fort Laramie this scene was renewed; and every day 
the Indians grew more rapacious and presumptuous. One 
evening they broke in pieces, out of mere wantonness, the 
cups from which they had been feasted; and this so ex- 
asperated the emigrants, that many of them seized their 
rifles and could scarcely be restrained from firing on the 
insolent mob of Indians. Before we left the country this 
dangerous spirit on the part of the Dahcotah had mounted 
to a yet higher pitch. They began openly to threaten the 
emigrants with destruction, and actually fired upon one or 



102 THE OREGON TRAIL 

two parties of them. A military force and military law 
are urgently called for in that perilous region ; and unless 
troops are speedily stationed at Fort Laramie, or else- 
where in the neighborhood, both emigrants and other 
travelers will be exposed to most imminent risks. 

The Ogillallah, the Brule, and the other western bands 
of the Dahcotah or Sioux, are thorough savages, un- 
changed by any contact with civilization. Not one of them 
can speak a European tongue, or has ever visited an 
American settlement. Until within a year or two, when 
the emigrants began to pass through their country on the 
way to Oregon, they had seen no whites, except those em- 
pWed about the Fur Company's posts. They esteemed 
them a wise people, inferior only to themselves, living in 
leather lodges, like their own, and subsisting on buffalo. 
But when the swarm of Meneaska,'^ with their oxen and 
wagons, began to invade them, their astonishment was 
unbounded. They could scarcely believe that the earth 
'contained such a multitude of white men. Their wonder 
is now giving way to indignation ; and the result, unless 
vigilantly guarded against, may be lamentable in the ex- 
treme. 

But to glance at the interior of a lodge. Shaw and I 
used often to visit them. Indeed we spent most of our 
evenings in the Indian village, Shaw's assumption of the 
medical character giving us a fair pretext. As a sample 
of the rest I will describe one of these visits. The sun 
had just set, and the horses were driven into the corral. 
The Prairie Cock, a noted beau, came in at the gate with 
a bevy of young girls, with whom he began a dance in the 
area, leading them round and round in a circle, while he 
jerked up from his chest a succession of monotonous 
sounds, to which they kept time in a rueful chant. Out- 
side the gate boys and young men were idly frolicking, 
and close by, looking grimly upon them, stood a warrior 
in his robe, with his face painted jet-black, in token that 

7 White men. 



SCENES AT FORT LARAJMIE 103 

he had lately taken a Pawnee scalp. Passing these, the 
tall dark lodges rose between us and the red western sky. 
We repaired at once to the lodge of Old Smoke himself. 
It was by 1^0 means better than the others; indeed, it was 
rather shabby ; for in this democratic community the chief 
never assumes superior state. Smoke sat cross-legged on 
a buffalo-robe, and his grunt of salutation as we entered 
was unusually cordial, out of respect no doubt to Shaw's 
medical character. Seated around the lodge were several 
squaws, and an abundance of children. The complaint 
of Shaw's patients was, for the most part, a severe inflam- 
mation of the eyes, occasioned by exposure to the sun, a 
species of disorder which he treated with some success. 
He had brought with him a homoeopathic medicine-chest, 
and was, I presume, the first who introduced that harm- 
less system of treatment among the Ogillallah. No sooner 
had a robe been spread at the head of the lodge for our 
accommodation, and we had seated ourselves upon it, 
than a patient made her appearance: the chief's daughter 
herself, who, to do her justice, was the best-looking girl 
in the village. Being on excellent terms with the physi- 
cian, she placed herself readily under his hands, and sub- 
mitted with a good grace to his applications, laughing in 
his face during the whole process, for a squaw hardly 
knows how to smile. This case despatched, another of 
a different kind succeeded. A hideous, emaciated old 
woman sat in the darkest corner of the lodge, rocking to 
and fro with pain, and hiding her eyes from the light by 
pressing the palms of both hands against her face. At 
Smoke 's command she came forward, very unwillingly, and 
exhibited a pair of eyes that had nearly disappeared from 
excess of inflammation. No sooner had the doctor fast- 
ened his grip upon her, than she set up a dismal moaning, 
and writhed so in his grasp that he lost all patience; but 
being resolved to carry his point, he succeeded at last in 
applying his favorite remedies. 

"It is strange," he said, when the operation was 



104 THE OREGON TRAIL 

finished, "that I forgot to bring any Spanish flies with me; 
we must have something here to answer for a counter- 
irritant." 

So, in the absence of better, he seized upon a red-hot 
brand from the fire, and clapped it against the temple of 
the old squaw, who set up an unearthly howl, at which 
the rest of the family broke into a laugh. 

During these medical operations Smoke's eldest squaw 
entered the lodge, with a stone mallet in her hand. I had 
observed a litter of well-grown black puppies, comfort- 
ably nestled among some buffalo-robes at one side; but 
this new-comer speedily disturbed their enjoyment; for 
seizing one of them by the hind paw, she dragged him 
out, and carrying him to the entrance of the lodge, ham- 
mered him on the head till she killed him. Conscious to 
what this preparation tended, I looked through a hole in 
the back of the lodge to see the next steps of the process. 
The squaw, holding the puppy by the legs, was swinging 
him to and fro through the blaze of a fire, until the hair 
was singed off. This done, she unsheathed her knife and 
cut him into small pieces, which she dropped into a kettle 
to boil. In a few moments a large wooden dish was set 
before us, filled with this delicate preparation. A dog- 
feast is the greatest compliment a Dahcotah can offer to 
his guest; and, knowing that to refuse eating would be an 
affront, we attacked the little dog, and devoured him be- 
fore the eyes of his unconscious parent. Smoke in the 
mean time was preparing his great pipe. It was lighted 
when we had finished our repast, and we passed it from 
one to another till the bowl was empty. This done, we 
took our leave without further ceremony, knocked at the 
gate of the fort, and after making ourselves known, were 
admitted. 



CHAPTER X 

THE WAR PARTIES 

The summer of 1846 was a season of warlike excite- 
ment among all the western bands of the Dahcotah. In 
1845 they encountered great reverses. Many war parties 
had been sent out; some of them had been cut off, and 
others had returned broken and disheartened; so that the 
Avhole nation Avas in mourning. Among the rest, ten war- 
riors had gone to the Snake country/ led by the son of a 
prominent Ogillallah chief, called The Whirlwind. In 
passing over Laramie Plains- they encountered a superior 
number of their enemies, were surrounded, and killed to 
a man. Having performed this exploit, the Snakes be- 
came alarmed, dreading the resentment of the Dahcotah; 
and they hastened therefore to signify their wish for peace 
by sending the scalp of the slain partisan,^ with a small 
parcel of tobacco attached, to his tribesmen and relations. 
They had employed old Vaskiss, the trader, as their mes- 
senger, and the scalp was the same that hung in our room 
at the fort. But The Whirlwind proved inexorable. 
Though his character hardly corresponds with his name, 
he is nevertheless an Indian, and hates the Snakes with his 
whole soul. Long before the scalp arrived, he had made 
his preparations for revenge. He sent messengers with 
presents and tobacco to all the Dahcotah within three 
hundred miles, proposing a grand combination to chastise 
the Snakes, and naming a place and time of rendezvous. 
The plan was readily adopted, and at this moment many 

1 The Snakes lived on the west side of the mountains on the upper 
waters of the Columbia. 

- Between the Black Hills and the Medicine Bow Mountains. 
3 Leader of a party. 

105 



106 THE OEEGON TRAIL 

villages, probably embracing in the whole five or six thou- 
sand souls, were slowly creeping over the prairies and 
tending toward the common centre at "La Bonte's-^ 
camp," on the Platte. Here their warlike rites were to 
be celebrated with more than ordinary solemnity, and a 
thousand warriors, as it was said, were to set out for the 
enemy's country. The characteristic result of this prepa- 
ration will appear in the sequel. 

I was greatly rejoiced to hear of it. I had come into 
the country mainly with a view of observing the Indian 
character. To accomplish my purpose it was necessary 
to live in the midst of them, and become, as it were, one 
of them. I proposed to join a village, and make myself 
an inmate of one of their lodges; and henceforward this 
narrative, so far as I am concerned, will be chiefly a record 
of the progress of this design. 

We resolved on no account to miss the rendezvous at 
La Bonte's camp. Our plan was to leave Deslauriers 
at the fort, in charge of our equipage and the better part 
of our horses, while we took with us nothing but our 
weapons and the worst animals we had. In all probability, 
jealousies and quarrels would arise among so many hordes 
of fierce impulsive savages, congregated together under no 
common head, and many of them strangers from remote 
prairies and mountains. We were bound in common 
prudence to be cautious how we excited any feeling of 
cupidity. This was our plan ; but unhappily we were not 
destined to visit La Bonte's camp in this manner, for 
one morning a young Indian came to the fort and brought 
us evil tidings. The new-comer was certainly a dandy. 
His ugly face was painted with vermilion; on his head 
fluttered the tail of a prairie-cock (a large species of 
pheasant, not found, as I have heard, eastward of the 
Eocky mountains) ; in his ears were hung pendants of 
shell and a flaming red blanket was wrapped around 
him. He carried a dragoon-sword in his hand, solely 

4 La Bonte Creek flows into the Platte about fifty miles west of 
IFoit Laramie. 



THE WAR PARTIES 107 

for display, since the knife, the arrow, and the rifle are the 
arbiters of every prairie fight ; but as no one in this 
country goes abroad unarmed, the dandy carried a bow and 
arrows in an otter-skin quiver at his back. In this guise, 
and bestriding his yellow horse with an air of extreme 
dignity, "The Horse," for that was his name, rode in at 
the gate, turning neither to the right nor the left, but 
casting glances askance at the groups of squaws who, with 
their mongrel progeny, were sitting in the sun before 
their doors. The evil tidings brought by "The Horse" 
were of the following import: The squaw of Henry 
Chatillon, a woman with whom he had been connected for 
years by the strongest ties which in that country exist 
between the sexes, was dangerously ill. She and her 
children were in the village of The Whirlwind, at the 
distance of a few days' journey. Henry was anxious to 
see the woman before she died, and provide for the safety 
and support of his children, of whom he was extremely 
fond. To have refused him this would have been in- 
humanity. We abandoned our plan of joining Smoke's 
village and proceeding with it to the rendezvous, and 
determined to meet The Whirlwind, and go in his com- 
pany. 

I had been slightly ill for several weeks, but on the 
third night after reaching Fort Laramie a violent pain 
awoke me, and I found myself attacked by the same dis- 
order that occasioned such heavy losses to the army on the 
Eio Grande.^ In a day and a half I was reduced to ex- 
treme weakness, so that I could not walk without pain. 
I resolved to depend upon Providence for recovery, using, 
without regard to the disorder, any portion of strength 
that I might have. So on the twentieth of June we set 
out from Fort Laramie to meet The Whirlwind's village. 
Though aided by the high-bowed "mountain-saddle," I 
<3ould scarcely keep my seat on horseback. Before we 
left the fort we hired another man, a long-haired Canadian, 
named Raymond, with a face like an owl's, contrasting 

5 See Introduction, p. xxii. 



108 THE OREGON TRAIL 

oddly enough with Deslauriers's mercurial countenance. 
This was not the only reinforcement to our party. A 
vagrant Indian trader, named Reynal, joined us, together 
with his squaw, Margot, and her two nephews, our dandy 
friend, ' ' The Horse, ' ' and his younger brother, ' ' The Hail 
Storm." Thus accompanied, we betook ourselves to the 
prairie, leaving the beaten trail, and passing over the 
desolate hills that flank the levels of Laramie Creek. In 
all, Indians and whites, we counted eight men and one 
woman. 

Reynal, the trader, the image of sleek and selfish con- 
placency, carried ''The Horse's" dragoon-sword in his 
hand, delighting apparentlj^ in this useless parade ; for 
from spending half his life among Indians, he had caught 
not only their habits but their ideas. Margot, a female 
animal of more than two hundred pounds' weight, was 
couched in the basket of a traineau, such as I have before 
described ; besides her ponderous bulk, various domestic 
utensils were attached to the vehicle, and she was leading 
a packhorse, which carried the covering of Reynal's lodge. 
Deslauriers walked briskly by the side of the cart, and 
Raymond came behind, swearing at the spare horses which 
it was his business to drive. The restless young Indians^ 
their quivers at their backs and their bows in their hands, 
galloped over the hills, often starting a wolf or an antelope 
from the thick growth of wild-sage bushes. Shaw and I 
were in keeping with the rest of the rude cavalcade^ 
having in the absence of other clothing adopted the buck- 
skin attire of the trappers. Henry Chatillon rode in ad- 
vance of the whole. Thus we passed hill after hill and 
hollow after hollow, a country arid, broken, and so parched 
by the sun that none of the plants familiar to our more 
favored soil would flourish upon it, though there were 
multitudes of strange medicinal herbs, more especially 
the absinth,® which covered every declivity, w^hile cacti 
were hanging like reptiles at the edges of every ravine. 
At length we ascended a high hill, our horses treading 

6 Artemisia absintliiiim or sage-brush. 



THE WAR PARTIES 109 

upon pebbles of flint, agate, and rough jasper, until, gain- 
ing the top, we looked down on the wild bottoms of 
Laramie Creek, which far below us wound like a writh- 
ing snake from side to side of the narrow interval, amid a 
growth of shattered cotton-wood and ash trees. Lines of 
tall cliffs, white as chalk, shut in this green strip of Avoods 
and meadow-land, into which we descended and encamped 
for the night. 

In the morning we passed a wide grassy plain by the 
river; there was a grove in front, and beneath its shadows 
the ruins of an old trading fort of logs. The grove 
bloomed with myriads of wild roses, with their sweet per- 
fume fraught with recollections of home. As w^e emerged 
from the trees, a rattlesnake, as large as a man's arm, and 
more than four feet long, lay coiled on a rock, fiercely 
rattling and hissing at us; a gray hare, twice as large as 
those of New England, leaped up from the tall ferns; 
curlew were screaming over our heads, and a host of little 
prairie-dogs sat yelping at us at the mouths of their bur- 
rows on the dry plain beyond. Suddenly an antelope 
leaped up from the wild-sage bushes, gazed eagerly at us, 
and then, erecting his white tail, stretched away like a 
grej^hound. The two Indian boys found a white wolf, as 
large as a calf, in a hollow, and, giving a sharp yell, they 
galloped after him; but the wolf leaped into the stream 
and swam across. Then came the crack of a rifle, the 
bullet whistling harmlessly over his head, as he scrambled 
up the steep declivity, rattling down stones and earth into 
the water below. Advancing a little, we beheld, on the 
farther bank of the stream, a spectacle not common even 
in that region; for, emerging from among the trees, a 
herd of some two hundred elk came out upon the meadow, 
their antlers clattering as they w^alked forward in a dense 
throng. Seeing us, they broke into a run, rushing across 
the opening and disappearing among the trees and scat- 
tered groves. On our left was a barren prairie, stretching 
to the horizon; on our right, a deep gulf, with Laramie 
Creek at the bottom. We found ourselves at length at 



110 THE OEEGON TRAIL 

the edge of a steep descent; a narrow valley, with long 
rank grass and scattered trees stretching before us for a 
mile or more along the course of the stream. Reaching 
the farther end, we stopped and encamped. A huge old 
cotton-wood tree spread its branches horizontally over 
our tent. Laramie Creek, circling before our camp, half 
inclosed us; it swept along the bottom of a line of tall 
w^hite cliffs that looked down on us from the farther bank. 
There w^ere dense copses on our right; the cliffs too. were 
half hidden by shrubbery, though behind us a few cotton- 
wood trees, dotting the green prairie, alone impeded the 
view, and friend or enemy could be discerned in that direc- 
tion at a mile's distance. Here we resolved to remain and 
await the arrival of The Whirlwind, who would certainly 
pass this way in his progress towards La Bonte's camp. 
To go in search of him was not expedient, both on account 
of the broken and impracticable nature of the country, 
and the uncertainty of his position and movement ; besides, 
our horses were almost worn out, and I was in no condition 
to travel. We had good grass, good water, tolerable fish 
from the stream, and plenty of small game, such as 
antelope and deer, though no buffalo. There was one 
little drawback to our satisfaction : a certain extensive tract 
of bushes and dried grass, just behind us, which it was 
by no means advisable to enter, since it sheltered a numer- 
ous brood of rattle-snakes. Henry Chatillon again des- 
patched ''The Horse" to the village, with a message to his 
squaw that she and her relatives should leave the rest and 
push on as rapidly as possible to our camp. 

Our daily routine soon became as regular as that of a 
well-ordered household. The weather-beaten old tree was 
in the centre ; our rifles generally rested against its vast 
trunk, and our saddles were flung on the ground around 
it ; its distorted roots were so twisted as to form one or two 
convenient arm-chairs, where we could sit in the shade and 
read or smoke; but meal-times became, on the whole, the 
most interesting hours of the day, and a bountiful provi- 
sion was made for them. An antelope or a deer usually 



THE WAR PARTIES 111 

swung from a bough, and haunches were suspended against 
the trunk. That camp is daguerreotj^ped ' on my memory : 
the old tree, the white tent, with Shaw sleeping in the 
shadow of it, and Reynal's miserable lodge close by the 
bank of the stream. It was a wretched oven-shaped 
structure, made of begrimed and tattered buffalo-hides 
stretched over a frame of poles; one side was open, and at 
the side of the opening hung the powder-horn and bullet- 
pouch of the owner, together with his long red pipe, and a 
rich quiver of otter-skin, with a bow and arrows; for 
Reynal, an Indian in most things but color, chose to hunt 
buffalo with these primitive weapons. In the darkness of 
this cavern-like habitation might be discerned Madame 
Margot, her overgrown bulk stowed away among her 
domestic implements, furs, robes, blankets, and painted 
cases of par fleche, in which dried meat is kept. Here she 
sat from sunrise to sunset, an impersonation of gluttony 
and laziness, while her affectionate proprietor was smok- 
ing, or begging petty gifts from us, or telling lies concern- 
ing his own achievements, or perchance engaged in the 
more profitable occupation of cooking some preparation 
of prairie delicacies. Reynal was an adept at this work; 
he and Deslauriers have joined forces, and are hard at 
work together over the fire, while Raymond spreads, by 
way of table-cloth, a buffalo-hide carefully whitened with 
pipe-clay, on the grass before the tent. Here he arranges 
the teacups and plates; and then, creeping on all fours, 
like a dog, thrusts his head in at the opening of the tent. 
For a moment we see his round owlish eyes rolling wildly, 
as if the idea he came to communicate had suddenly es- 
caped him; then collecting his scattered thoughts, as if 
by an effort, he informs us that supper is ready, and 
instantly withdraws. 

When sunset came, and at that hour the wild and des- 
olate scene would assume a new aspect, the horses were 
driven in. They had been grazing all day in the neighbor- 
ing meadow, but now they were picketed close about the 

7 As we should say, pJwtographed. 



112 THE OREGON TRAIL 

camp. As the prairie darkened we sat and conversed 
aroimd the fire, until, becoming drowsy, we spread our 
saddles on the ground, wrapped our blankets around us, 
and lay down. AVe never placed a guard, having by this 
time become too indolent; but Henry Chatillon folded his 
loaded rifle in the same blanket with himself, observing 
that he always took it to bed with him when he camped 
in that place. Henry was too bold a man to use such a 
precaution without good cause. We had a hint now and 
then that our situation was none of the safest; several 
Crow Avar-parties were known to be in the vicinity, and 
one of them, that passed here some time before, had 
peeled the bark from a neighboring tree, and engraved 
upon the white wood certain hieroglyphics, to signify that 
they had invaded the territories of their enemies, the 
Dahcotah, and set them at defiance. One morning a thick 
mist covered the whole country. Shaw and Henry went 
out to ride, and soon came back with a startling piece of 
intelligence; they had found within rifle-shot of our camp 
the recent trail of about thirty horsemen. They could 
not be whites, and they could not be Dahcotah, since we 
knew no such parties to be in the neighborhood ; there- 
fore they must be Crows. Thanks to that friendly mist, 
we had escaped a hard battle; they would inevitably have 
attacked us and our Indian companions had they seen our 
camp. Whatever doubts we might have entertained, were 
removed a day or two after, by two or three Dahcotah, 
who came to us with an account of having hidden in a 
ravine on that very morning, from whence they saw and 
counted the Crows; they said that they followed them, 
carefully keeping out of sight, as they passed up Chug- 
water;^ that here the Crows discovered five dead bodies 
of Dahcotah, placed according to custom in trees, and 
flinging them to the ground, held their guns against them 
and blew them to atoms. 

If our camp were not altogether safe, still it was com- 
fortable enough; at least it was so to Shaw, for I was 

8 A creek flowing into the Laramie from the South. 



THE WAR PARTIES 113 

tormented with illness and vexed by the delay in the accom- 
plishment of my designs. When a respite in my disorder 
gave me some returning strength, I rode out well armed 
upon the prairie, or bathed with Shaw in the stream, or 
waged a petty warfare with the inhabitants of a neighbor- 
ing prairie-dog village. Around our fire at night we 
employed ourselves in inveighing against the fickleness 
and inconstancy of Indians, and execrating The "Whirl- 
wind and all his village. At last the thing grew insuffer- 
able. 

"To-morrow morning," said I, "I will start for the 
fort, and see if I can hear any news there." Late that 
evening, when the fire had sunk low, and all the camp 
were asleep, a loud cry sounded from the darkness. 
Henry started up, recognized the voice, replied to it, and 
our clandy friend, "The Horse," rode in among us, just 
returned from his mission to the village. He coolly 
picketed his mare, without saying a word, sat down by 
the fire and began to eat, but his imperturbable philosophy 
was too much for our patience. Where Avas the village? 
— about fifty miles south of us ; it was moving slowly, and 
would not arrive in less than a week. And where was 
Henry's squaw? — coming as fast as she could with Mahto- 
Tatonka, and the rest of her brothers, but she would never 
reach us, for she was dying, and asking every moment 
for Henry. Henry's manly face became clouded and 
downcast ; he said that if we were willing he would go in 
the morning to find her, at which Shaw offered to accom- 
pany him. 

AYe saddled our horses at sunrise. Reynal protested 
vehemently against being left alone, with nobody but the 
two Canadians and the young Indians, when enemies were 
in the neighborhood. Disregarding his complaints, we 
left him, and, coming to the mouth of Chugwater, sepa- 
rated, Shaw and Henry turning to the right, up the bank 
of the stream, while I made for the fort. 

Taking leave for a while of my friend and the unfortu- 
nate squaw, I will relate by way of episode what I saw and 



114 THE OREGON TRAIL 

did at Fort Laramie. It was not more than eighteen miles 
distant, and I reached it in three hours. A shrivelled 
little figure, wrapped from head to foot in a dingy white 
Canadian capote, stood in the gateway, holding by a cord 
of bull-hide a shaggy wild-horse, which he had lately 
caught. His sharp prominent features, and his keen 
snake-like eyes, looked out from beneath the shadowy hood 
of the capote, which was drawn over his head like the 
cowl of a Capuchin friar. His face was like an old piece 
of leather, and his mouth spread from ear to ear. Extend- 
ing his long wiry hand, he welcomed me with something 
more cordial than the ordinary cold salute of an Indian, 
for we were excellent friends. We had made an ex- 
change of horses to our mutual advantage; and Paul, 
thinking himself well treated, had declared everywhere that 
the white man had a good heart. He was a Dahcotah 
from the Missouri, a reputed son of the half-breed inter- 
preter, Pierre Dorion, so often mentioned in Irving 's 
"Astoria."^ He said that he was going to Richard's 
trading-house to sell his horse to some emigrants, who were 
encamped there, and asked me to go with him. We forded 
the stream together, Paul dragging his wild charge behind 
him. As we passed over the sandy plains beyond, he grew 
communicative. Paul was a cosmopolitan in his way; he 
had been to the settlements of the whites, and visited in 
peace and war most of the tribes within the range of a 
thousand miles. He spoke a jargon of French and another 
of English, yet nevertheless he was a thorough Indian; 
and as he told of the bloody deeds of his own people against 
their enemies, his little eyes would glitter with a fierce 
lustre. He told how the Dahcotah exterminated a village 
of the Hohays on the Upper Missouri, slaughtering men, 
women, and children; and how, in overwhelming force, 
they cut off sixteen of the brave Delawares, who fought 
like w^olves to the last, amid the throng of their enemies. 
He told me also another story, which I did not believe 

9 Irving's history of the operations of J. J. x\stor in the fur trade 
of the Northwest. The account of Dorion is in Chapter XV. 



THE WAR PARTIES 115 

until I had heard it confirmed from so many independent 
sources that no room was left for doubt. 

Six years ago, a fellow named Jim Beckworth, a mongrel 
of French, American, and negro blood, was trading for the 
Fur Company, in a large village of the Crows. Jim 
Beckworth was last summer at St. Louis. He is a ruffian 
of the worst stamp ; bloody and treacherous, without honor 
or honesty; such at least is the character he bears upon 
the prairie. Yet in his case the standard rules of character 
fail, for though he will stab a man in his sleep, he will also 
perform most desperate acts of daring; such, for instance, 
as the following: While he was in the Crow village, a 
Black-foot war-party, between thirty and forty in number, 
came stealing through the country, killing stragglers and 
carrying off horses. The Crow warriors got upon their trail 
and pressed them so closely that they could not escape, 
at which the Blackfeet, throwing up a semi-circular breast- 
work of logs at the foot of a precipice, coolly awaited their 
approach. The logs and sticks, piled four or five feet 
high, protected them in front. The Crows might have 
swept over the breastwork and exterminated their enemies ; 
but though outnumbering them tenfold, they did not dream 
of storming the little fortification. Such a proceeding 
would be altogether repugnant to their notions of warfai*e. 
Whooping and yelling, ^nd jumping from side to side like 
devils incarnate, they showered bullets and arrows upon 
the logs; not a Blackfoot was hurt, but several Crows, in 
spite of their leaping and dodging, were shot down. In 
this childish manner, the fight went on for an hour or 
two. Now and then a Crow warrior in an ecstasy of valor 
and vainglory would scream forth his war-song, boast him- 
self the bravest and greatest of mankind, grasp his hatchet, 
rush up, strike it upon the breastwork, and then as he 
retreated to his companions, fall dead under a shower of 
arrows ; yet no combined attack was attempted. The Black- 
feet remained secure in their intrenchment. At last Jim 
Beckworth lost patience. 

"You are all fools and old women," he said to the 



116 THE OREGON TRAIL 

Crows; "come with me, if any of you are brave enough, 
and I will show you how to fight." 

He threw off his trapper's frock of buckskin and stripped 
himself naked, like the Indians themselves. He left his 
rifle on the ground, and taking in his hand a small light 
hatchet, he ran over the prairie to the right, concealed by a 
hollow from the eyes of the Blackfeet. Then climbing up 
the rocks, he gained the top of the precipice behind them. 
Forty or fifty young Crow warriors followed him. By the 
■cries and w^ioops that rose from below he knew that the 
Blackfeet were just beneath him ; and running forward he 
leaped down the rock into the midst of them. As he fell 
he caught one by the long loose hair, and dragging him 
dow^n tomahawked him ; then grasping another by the belt 
at his waist, he struck him also a stunning blow, and, gain- 
ing his feet, shouted the Crow war-cry. He swung his 
hatchet so fiercely around him, that the astonished Black- 
feet bore back and gave him room. He might, had he 
chosen, have leaped over the breastwork and escaped; but 
this was not necessary, for with devilish yells the Crow^ 
warriors came dropping in quick succession over the rock 
among their enemies. The main body of the Crows, too, 
answ^ered the cry from the front, and rushed up simul- 
taneously. The convulsive struggle wdthin the breastwork 
was frightful; for an instant th^ Blackfeet fought and 
yelled like pent-up tigers; but the butchery was soon 
complete, and the mangled bodies lay piled together under 
the precipice. Not a Blackfoot made his escape. 

As Paul finished his story we came in sight of Richard's 
Fort,^° a disorderly crowd of men around it, and an emi- 
grant camp a little in front. 

''Now, Paul," said I, "where are your Minnicongew 
lodges?" 

"Not come yet," said Paul; "maybe come to-morrow." 

Two large villages of a band of Dahcotah had come 
three hundred miles from the Missouri, to join in the war, 
and they were expected to reach Richard's that morning. 

10 See p. 87. 



THE WAR PARTIES 117 

There was as yet no sign of their approach; so pushing 
through a noisy, drunken crowd, I entered an apartment 
of logs and mud, the largest in the fort: it was full of 
men of various races and complexions, all more or less 
drunk. A companj^ of California emigrants, it seemed, 
had made the discovery at this late day that they had 
encumbered themselves with too many supplies for their 
journey. A part, therefore, they had thrown away, or sold 
at great loss to the traders ; but had determined to get rid 
of their very copious stock of IMissouri whiskey, by drink- 
ing it on the spot. Here w^ere maudlin squaws stretched 
on piles of buffalo-robes; squalid Mexicans, armed with 
bows and arrows; Indians sedately drunk; long-haired 
Canadians and trappers, and American backwoodsmen in 
brown homespun, the well-beloved pistol and bowie-knife 
displayed openly at their sides. In the middle of the 
room a tall, lank man, with a dingy broadcloth coat, was 
haranguing the company in the st.yle of the stump orator. 
"With one hand he sawed the air, and w^ith the other 
clutched firmly a bro\^^l jug of whiskey, which he applied 
every moment to his lips, forgetting that he had drained 
the contents long ago. Richard formally introduced me 
to this personage, who was no less a man than Colonel 

E , once the leader of the party. Instantly the Colonel 

seizing me, in the absence of buttons, by the leather 
fringes of my frock, began to define his position. His 
men, he said, had mutinied and deposed him; but still he 
exercised over them the influence of a superior mind; in 
all but the name he was yet their chief. As the Colonel 
spoke, I looked round on the wild assemblage, and could 
not help thinking that he was but ill qualified to conduct 
such men across the deserts to California. Conspicuous 
among the rest stood three tall young men, grandsons of 
Daniel Boone. They had clearly inherited the adventur- 
ous character of that prince of pioneers ; but I saw no signs 
of the quiet and tranquil spirit that so remarkably dis- 
tinguished him. 

Fearful was the fate that, months after, overtook some 



118 THE OREGON TRAIL 

of the members of that party. General Kearney, on his 
late return from California, brought back their account 
how they were interrupted by the deep snows among the 
mountains, and, maddened by cold and hunger, fed upon 
each other's flesh! 

I got tired of the confusion. ''Come, Paul," said I, 
"we will be off.'' Paul sat in the sun, under the wall 
of the fort. He jumped up, mounted, and we rode towards 
Fort Laramie. When we reached it, a man came out of 
the gate with a pack at his back and a rifle on his shoul- 
der; others were gathering about him, shaking him by the 
hand, as if taking leave. I thought it a strange thing that 
a man should set out alone and on foot for the prairie. I 
soon got an explanation. Perrault — this, if I recollect 
right, was the Canadian's name — had quarrelled with the 
bourgeois, and the fort was too hot to hold him. Bordeaux, 
inflated with his transient authority, had abused him, and 
received a blow in return. The men then sprang at each 
other, and grappled in the middle of the fort. Bordeaux 
was down in an instant, at the mercy of the incensed 
Canadian ; had not an old Indian, the brother of his squaw, 
seized hold of his antagonist, it would have fared ill with 
him. Perrault broke loose from the old Indian, and both 
the white men ran to their rooms for their guns ; but when 
Bordeaux, looking from his door, saw the Canadian, gun 
in hand, standing in the area and calling on him to come 
out and flglit, his heart failed him; he chose to remain 
where he was. In vain the old Indian, scandalized by 
his brother-in-law's cowardice, called upon him to go to 
the prairie and fight it out in the white man's manner; 
and Bordeaux's own squaw, equall}^ incensed, screamed 
to her lord and master that he was a dog and an old 
woman. It all availed nothing. Bordeaux's prudence got 
the better of his valor, and he would not stir. Perrault 
stood showering opprobrious epithets at the recreant 
bourgeois. Growing tired of this, he made up a pack of 
dried meat, and, slinging it at his back, set out alone for 



THE WAR PARTIES 119 

Fort Pierre, on the Missouri, a distance of three hundred 
miles, over a desert country, full of hostile Indians. 

I remained in the fort that night. In the morning, as 
I was coming out from breakfast, talking with a trader 
named McCluskey, I saw a strange Indian leaning against 
the side of the gate. He was a tall, strong man, with 
heavy features. 

''Who is he?" I asked. 

''That's The Whirlwind," said McCluskey. "He is the 
fellow that made all this stir about the war. It's always 
the way with the Sioux; they never stop cutting each 
other's throats; it's all they are fit for; instead of sitting 
in their lodges, and getting robes to trade with us in the 
winter. If this war goes on, we'll make a poor trade of it 
next season, I reckon." 

And this was the opinion of all the traders, who were 
vehemently opposed to the war, from the injury that it 
must occasion to their interests. The Whirlwind left his 
village the day before to make a visit to the fort. His 
warlike ardor had abated not a little since he first con- 
ceived the design of avenging his son's death. The long 
and complicated preparations for the expedition were too 
much for his fickle disposition. That morning Bordeaux 
fastened upon him, made him presents, and told him that 
if he went to war he would destroy his horses and kill no 
buffalo to trade with the white men ; in short, that he was 
a fool to think of such a thing, and had better make up 
his mind to sit quietlj" in his lodge and smoke his pipe, 
like a wise man. The AVhirlwind's purpose was evidently 
shaken; he had become tired, like a child, of his favorite 
plan. Bordeaux exultingly predicted that he would not 
go to war. My philanthropy was no match for my curi- 
osity, and I was vexed at the possibility that after all I 
might lose the rare opportunity of seeing the ceremonies 
of war. The Whirlwind, however, had merely thrown the 
firebrand; the conflagration was become general. All the 
western bands of the Dahcotah were bent on war; and, 



120 THE OREGON TRAIL 

as I heard from ]\IcCluskey, six large villages were already 
gathered on a little stream, forty miles distant, and 
were daily calling to the Great Spirit to aid them in their 
enterprise. McCluskey had just left them, and repre- 
sented them as on their way to La Bonte's camp, which 
they would reach in a week, unless they sJioidd learn that 
there ivere no buffalo there. I did not like this condition, 
for buft'alo this season were rare in the neighborhood. 
There were also the two IMinnicongew villages that I men- 
tioned before; but about noon, an Indian came from 
Richard's Fort with the news that ihey were quarrelling, 
breaking up, and dispersing. So much for the whiskey of 
the emigrants! Finding themselves unable to drink the 
whole, they had sold the residue to these Indians, and it 
needed no prophet to foretell the result; a spark dropped 
into a powder-magazine would not have produced a quicker 
effect. Instantly the old jealousies and rivalries and 
smothered feuds that exist in an Indian village broke out 
into furious quarrels. They forgot the warlike enterprise 
that had already brought them three hundred miles. 
They seemed like ungoverned children inflamed with the 
fiercest passions of men. Several of them were stabbed 
in the drunken tumult ; and in the morning they scattered 
and moved back towards the Missouri in small parties. 
I feared that, after all, the long-projected meeting and 
the ceremonies that were to attend it might never take 
place, and I should lose so admirable an opportunit}^ of 
seeing the Indian under his most fearful and characteristic 
aspect; however, in foregoing this, I should avoid a very 
fair probability of being plundered and stripped, and it 
might be, stabbed or shot into the bargain. Consoling 
myself with this reflection, I prepared to carry the news, 
such as it was, to the camp. 

I caught my horse, and to my vexation found that he 
had lost a shoe and broken his hoof against the rocks. 
Horses are shod at Fort Laramie at the moderate rate of 
three dollars a foot; so I tied Hendrick to a bear^ ir^ the 



THE WAR PARTIES 121 

corral, and summoned Roubidou. the blacksmith. Roubi- 
dou, with the hoof between his knees, was at work with 
hammer and file, and I was inspecting the process, when 
a strange voice addressed me. 

''Two more gone under! Well, there's more of us left 
yet. Here's Gingras and me off to the mountains to- 
morrow. Our turn will come next, I suppose. It's a hard 
life, anyhow!" 

I looked up and saw a man, not much more than five 
feet high, but of very square and strong proportions. In 
appearance he was particularl.y dingy; for his old buck- 
skin frock was black and polished with time and grease, 
and his belt, knife, pouch, and powder-horn appeared to 
have seen the roughest service. The first joint of each 
foot was entirely gone, having been frozen off several 
winters before, and his moccasins were curtailed in pro- 
portion. His whole appearance and equipment bespoke 
the ''free trapper." He had a round ruddy face, ani- 
mated with a spirit of carelessness and gayety not at all 
in accordance with the words he had just spoken. 

' ' ' Two more gone, ' ' ' said I : " what do you mean by 
that?" 

"Oh, the Arapahoes have just killed two of us in the 
mountains. Old Bull-Tail has come to tell us. They 
stabbed one behind his back, and shot the other with his 
o^^^l rifle. That 's the way Ave live here ! I mean to give 
up trapping after this year. My squaw says she wants a 
pacing horse and some red ribbons: I'll make enough 
beaver to get them for her, and then I 'm done ! I '11 go 
below and live on a farm. ' ' 

"Your bones will dry on the prairie. Rouleau!" said 
another trapper, who was standing by; a strong, brutal- 
looking fellow, with a face as surly as a bull-dog's. 

Rouleau only laughed, and began to hum a tune and 
shuffle a dance on his stumps of feet. 

"You'll see us, before long, passing up your way," said 
the other man. 



122 THE- OREGON TRAIL 

''Well," said I, "stop and take a cup of coffee with us;'* 
and, as it was late in the afternoon, I prepared to leave the 
fort at once. 

As I rode out, a train of emigrant wagons was passing 
across the stream. ' ' Whar are ye goin ', stranger ? ' ' Thus 
I was saluted by two or three voices at once. 

"About eighteen miles up the creek." 

" It 's mighty late to be going that far ! Make haste, ye 'd 
better, and keep a bright look-out for Indians!" 

I thought the advice too good to be neglected. Fording 
the stream, I passed at a round trot over the plains beyond. 
But "the more haste, the worse speed." I proved the 
truth of the proverb by the time I reached the hills three 
miles from the fort. The trail was faintly marked, and, 
riding forward with more rapidity than caution, I lost 
sight of it. I kept on in a direct line, guided by Laramie 
Creek, which I could see at intervals darkly glistening in 
the evening sun, at the bottom of the woody gulf on my 
right. Half an hour before sunset I came upon its banks. 
There was something exciting in the wild solitude of the 
place. An antelope sprang suddenly from the sage- 
bushes before me. As he leaped gracefully not thirty 
yards before my horse, I fired, and instantly he spun 
round and fell. Quite sure of him, I walked my horse 
towards him, leisurely reloading my rifle, when, to my 
surprise he sprang up and trotted rapidly away on three 
legs, into the dark recesses of the hills, whither I had no 
time to follow. Ten minutes after, I was passing along 
the bottom of a deep valley, and, chancing to look behind 
me, I saw in the dim light that something was following. 
Supposing it to be a wolf, I slid from my seat and sat 
down behind my horse to shoot it ; but as it came up, I saw 
by its motions that it was another antelope. It approached 
within a hundred yards, arched its neck, and gazed in- 
tently. I levelled at the white spot on its chest, and was 
about to fire when it started off, ran first to one side and 
then to the other, like a vessel tacking against the wind, 
and at last stretched away at full speed. Then it stopped 



THE WAR PARTIES 123 

again, looked curiously behind it, and trotted up as before ; 
but not so boldly, for it soon paused and stood gazing at 
me. I fired; it leaped upward and fell upon its tracks. 
Measuring the distance, I found it two hundred and four 
paces. When I stood by his side, the antelope turned 
his expiring eye upward. It was like a beautiful woman's, 
dark and bright. "Fortunate that I am in a hurry," 
thought I; "I might be troubled with remorse, if I had 
lime for it." 

Cutting the animal up, not in the most skilful manner, 
I hung the meat at the back of my saddle, and rode on 
again. The hills (I could not remember one of them) 
closed around me. "It is too late," thought I, "to go 
forward. I will stay here to-night, and look for the path 
in the morning." As a last effort, however, I ascended a 
high hill, from which, to my great satisfaction, I could see 
Laramie Creek stretching before me, twisting from side to 
side amid ragged patches of timber; and far off, close 
beneath the shadows of the trees, the ruins of the old 
trading-fort were visible. I reached them at twilight. It 
was far from pleasant, in that uncertain light, to be push- 
ing through the dense trees and shrubbery of the grove 
beyond. I listened anxiously for the foot-fall of man 
or beast. Nothing w^as stirring but one harmless brown 
bird, chirping among the branches. I was glad when I 
gained the open prairie once more, where I could see if 
any thing approached. When I came to the mouth of 
Chugwater, it was totally dark. Slackening the reins, I 
let my horse take his own course. He trotted on with 
unerring instinct, and by nine o'clock was scrambling 
down the steep descent into the meadows w^here we were 
encamped. While I w^as looking in vain for the light of 
the fire, Hendrick, with keener perceptions, gave a loud 
neigh, which was immediately answ^ered by another neigh 
from the distance. In a moment I was hailed from the 
darkness by the voice of Reynal, who had come out, rifle 
in hand, to see who was approaching. 

He, with his squaw% the two Canadians, and the Indian 



124 THE OREGON TRAIL 

boys, were the sole inmates of the camp, Shaw and Henry 
Chatillon being still absent. At noon of the following 
clay they came back, their horses looking none the better 
for the journey. Henry seemed dejected. The woman 
was dead, and his children must henceforward be exposed, 
without a protector, to the hardships and vicissitudes of 
Indian life. Even in the midst of his grief he had not 
forgotten his attachment to his bourgeois, for he had pro- 
cured among his Indian relatives two beautifully orna- 
mented buffalo-robes, which he spread on the ground as a 
present to us. 

Shaw lighted his pipe, and told me in a few words the 
history of his journey. When I went to the fort they 
left me, as I mentioned, at the mouth of Chugwater. 
They followed the course of the little stream all day, 
traversing a desolate and barren country. Several times 
they came upon the fresh traces of a large war-party, the 
same, no doubt, from whom' we had so narrowly escaped 
an attack. At an hour before sunset, without encounter- 
ing a human being by the way, they came upon the lodges 
of the squaw and her brothers, who, in compliance with 
Henry's message, had left the Indian village, in order to 
join us at our camp. The lodges were already pitched, 
five in number, by the side of the stream. The woman 
lay in one of them, reduced to a mere skeleton. For 
some time she had been unable to move or speak. Indeed, 
nothing had kept her alive but the hope of seeing Henry, 
to whom she was strongly and faithfully attached. No 
sooner did he enter the lodge than she revived, and con- 
versed with him the greater part of the night. Early in 
the morning she was lifted into a traineau, and the whole 
party set out towards our camp. There were but five 
warriors; the rest were women and children. The whole 
were in great alarm at the proximity of the Crow war- 
party, who would certainly have destroyed them without 
mercy had they met. They had advanced only a mile or 
two, when they discerned a horseman, far off, on the edge 
of the horizon. They all stopped, gathering together in 



THE WAR PARTIES 125 

the greatest anxiety, from which they did not recover until 
long after the horseman disappeared; then they set out 
again. Henry was riding with Shaw a few rods in ad- 
vance of the Indians, when Mahto-Tatonka, a younger 
brother of the woman, hastily called after them. Turning 
back, they found all the Indians crowded around the 
traineau in which the woman Avas lying. They reached 
her just in time to hear the death-rattle in her throat. In 
a moment she lay dead in- the basket of the vehicle. A 
complete stillness succeeded; then the Indians raised in 
concert their cries of lamentation over the corpse, and 
among them Shaw clearly distinguished those strange 
sounds resembling the word " Halleluyah, " ^^ which, 
together with some other accidental coincidences, has given 
rise to the absurd theory that the Indians are descended 
from the ten lost tribes of Israel. 

The Indian usage required that Henry, as well as the 
other relatives of the woman, should make valuable pres- 
sents, to be placed by the side of the body at its last rest- 
ing-place. Leaving the Indians, he and Shaw set out 
for the camp, and reached it, as w^e have seen, by hard 
pushing, at about noon. Having obtained the necessary 
articles, they immediately returned. It was very late and 
quite dark w^hen they again reached the lodges. They 
w^ere all placed in a deep hollow among dreary hills. 
Four of them were just visible through the gloom, but the 
fifth and largest was illumined by the blaze of a fire within, 
glowing through the half-transparent covering of raw 
hides. There was a perfect stillness as they approached. 
The lodges seemed without a tenant. Not a living thing 
was stirring; there was something awful in the scene. 
They rode up to the entrance of the lodge, and there was 
no sound but the tramp of their horses. A squaw came 
out and took charge of the animals, without speaking a 
word. Entering, they found the lodge crowded with In- 
dians; a fire was burning in the midst, and the mourners 

11 The origin of tlie American Indians was a favorite subject of 
speculation. 



126 THE OEEGON TPuAIL 

encircled it in a triple row. Room was made for the 
new-comers at the head of the lodge, a robe spread for 
them to sit upon, and a pipe lighted and handed to them 
in perfect silence. Thus they passed the greater part of 
the night. At times the fire would subside into a heap of 
embers, until the dark figures seated around it were 
scarcely visible ; then a squaw would drop upon it a piece 
of buffalo-fat, and a bright flame instantly springing up, 
would reveal the crowd of wild faces, motionless as bronze. 
The silence continued unbroken. It was a relief to Shaw 
when daylight returned and he could escape from this 
house of mourning. He and Henry prepared to return 
homeward; first, however, they placed the presents they 
had brought near the body of the squaw, which, gaudily 
attired, remained in a sitting posture in one of the lodges. 
A fine horse was picketed not far off, destined to be killed 
that morning for the service of her spirit; for the woman 
was lame, and could not travel on foot over the dismal 
prairies to the villages of the dead. Food, too, was pro- 
vided, and household implements, for her use upon this 
last journey. 

Henry left her to the care of her relatives, and came 
immediately with Shaw to the camp. It was some time 
before he entirely recovered from his dejection. 



CHAPTER XI 

SCENES AT THE CAMP 

Reynal heard guns fired one day, at the distance of 
a mile or two from the camp. He grew nervous instantly. 
Visions of Crow war-parties began to haunt his imagina- 
tion; and when we returned (for we were all absent), he 
renewed his complaints about being left alone with the 
Canadians and the squaw. The day after, the cause of the 
alarm appeared. Four trappers, called Morin, Saraphin, 
Rouleau, and Gingras, came to our camp and joined us. 
They it was who fired the guns and disturbed the dreams 
of our confederate Reynal. They soon encamped by our 
side. Their rifles, dingy and battered with hard service, 
rested with ours against the old tree; their strong rude 
saddles, their buffalo-robes, their traps, and the few rough 
and simple articles of their traveling equipment w^ere piled 
near our tent. Their mountain-horses were turned to 
graze in the meadow among our o^\ti; and the men them- 
selves, no less rough and hardy, used to lie half the day 
in the shade of our tree, lolling on the grass, lazily smok- 
ing, and telling stories of their adventures ; and I defy the 
annals of chivalry to furnish the record of a life more wild 
and perilous than that of a Rocky Mountain trapper. 

With this efficient reinforcement the agitation of Rey- 
nal's nerves subsided. We began to conceive assort of 
attachment to our old camping ground; yet it was time 
to change our quarters, since remaining too long on one 
spot must lead to unpleasant results, not to be borne un- 
less in case of dire necessity. The grass no longer 
presented a smooth surface of turf; it was trampled into 
mud and clay. So we removed to another old tree, larger 

127 



128 THE OREGON TRAIL 

yet, that grew by the side of the river a furlong distant. 
Its trunk was full six feet in diameter; on one side it was 
marked by a party of Indians with various inexplicable 
hieroglyphics, commemorating some Avarlike enterprise, 
and aloft among the branches were the remains of a 
scaffolding, where dead bodies had once been deposited, 
after the Indian manner. 

''There comes Bull-Bear/' said Henry Chatillon, as we 
sat on the grass at dinner. Looking up, we saw several 
horsemen coming over the neighboring hill, and in a mo- 
ment four stately j'^oung men rode up and dismounted. 
One of them was Bull-Bear, or Mahto-Tatonka, a com- 
pound name which he inherited from his father, the most 
powerful chief in the Ogillallah band. One of his brothers 
and two young men accompanied him. "We shook hands 
with the visitors, and when w^e had finished our meal 
— for this is the approved manner of entertaining In- 
dians, even the best of them — we handed to each a tin 
cup of coffee and a biscuit, at which they ejaculated from 
the bottom of their throats, ' ' How ! how ! " a monosyllable 
by which an Indian contrives to express half the emotions 
of which he is susceptible. Then we lighted the pipe, and 
passed it to them as they squatted on the ground. 

''Where is the village?" 

"There," said Mahto-Tatonka, pointing southward; "it 
will come in two days." 

"Will they go to the war?" 

"Yes." 

No man is a philanthropist on the prairie. AVe wel- 
comed this news cordiall}^, and congratulated ourselves 
that Bordeaux's interested efforts to divert The AVhirl- 
wind from his congenial vocation of bloodshed had failed 
of success, and that no additional obstacles would interpose 
between us and our plan of repairing to the rendezvous 
at La Bonte's camp. 

For that and several succeeding days, Mahto-Tatonka 
and his friends remained our guests. They devoured the 
relics of our meals; they filled the pipe for us, and also 



SCEXES AT THE CAMP 129 

helped iis to smoke it. Sometimes they stretched them- 
selves side by side in the shade, indulging in raillery and 
practical jokes, ill becoming the dignity of brave and as- 
piring warriors, such as two of them in reality were. 

Two days dragged away, and on the morning of the 
third we hoped confidently to see the Indian village. It 
did not come; so we rode out to look for it. In place of 
the eight hundred Indians we expected, we met one soli- 
tary savage riding towards us over the prairie, who told 
us that the Indians had changed their plan, and would 
not come within three days. Taking along with us this 
messenger of evil tidings, we retraced our footsteps to 
the camp, amusing ourselves by the way with execrating 
Indian inconstancy. When we came in sight of our little 
w^hite tent under the big tree, we saw that it no longer 
stood alone. A huge old lodge was erected by its side, 
discolored by rain and storms, rotten with age, with the 
uncouth figures of horses and men and outstretched hands 
that were painted upon it, w^ell nigh obliterated. The 
long poles which supported this squalid habitation thrust 
themselves rakishly out from its pointed top, and over its 
entrance were suspended a ''medicine-pipe" and various 
other imiplements of the magic art. While we were yet 
at a distance, we observed a greatly increased populatiqn 
of various colors and dimensions, swarming around our 
quiet encampment. Morin, the trapper, having been 
absent for a day or two, had returned, it seemed, bringing 
all his family with him. He had taken to himself a wife, 
for whom he had paid the established price of one horse. 
This looks cheap at first sight, but in truth the purchase 
of a squaw is a transaction which no man should enter 
into without mature deliberation, since it involves not 
only the payment of the price, but the burden of feeding 
and supporting a rapacious horde of the bride's relatives, 
w^ho hold themselves entitled to feed upon the indiscreet 
white man. They gather about him like leeches, and drain 
him of all he has. 

Morin did not belong to an aristocratic circle. His rel- 



130 THE OEEGON TRAIL 

atives occupied but a contemptible position in Ogjillallah 
society; for among these democrats of the prairie, as 
among us, there are virtual distinctions of rank and 
place. Morin's partner was not the most beautiful of 
her sex, and he had the bad taste to array her in 
an old calico gown, bought from an emigrant woman, 
instead of the neat tunic of whitened deer-skin ordinarily 
worn by the squaws. The moving spirit of the establish- 
ment was an old hag of eighty. Human imagination 
never conceived hobgoblin or witch more ugly than she. 
You could count all her ribs through the wrinkles of her 
leathery skin. Her withered face more resembled an old 
skull than the countenance of a living being, even to the 
hollow, darkened sockets, at the bottom of which glittered 
her little black eyes. Her arms had dwindled into noth- 
ing but whip-cord and wire. Her hair, half black, half 
gray, hung in total neglect nearly to the ground, and her 
sole garment consisted of the remnant of a discarded 
buffalo-robe tied round her waist with a string of hide. 
Yet the old squaw's meagre anatomy was wonderfully 
strong. She pitched the lodge, packed the horses, and did 
the hardest labor of the camp. From morning till night 
she bustled about the lodge, screaming like a screech-owl 
when any thing displeased her. Her brother, a ' ' medicine- 
man," or magician, was equally gaunt and sinewy with 
herself. His mouth spread from ear to ear, and his appe- 
tite, as we had occasion to learn, was ravenous in pro- 
portion. The other inmates of the lodge were a young 
bride and bridegroom, the latter one of those idle, good- 
for-nothing fellows who infest an Indian village as well as 
more civilized communities. He was fit neither for hunt- 
ing nor war, as one might infer from the stolid unmeaning 
expression of his face. The happy pair had just entered 
upon the honeymoon. They would stretch a buffalo-robe 
upon poles, to protect them from the rays of the sun, and 
spreading under it a couch of furs, would sit affectionately 
side by side for half the day, though I could not discover 
that much conversation passed between them. Probably 



SCENES AT THE CAMP 131 

they had nothing to say; for an Indian's supply of topics 
for conversation is far from being copious. There were 
half a dozen children, too, playing and whooping about 
the camp, shooting birds with little bows and arrows, or 
making miniature lodges of sticks, as children of a 
different complexion build houses of blocks. 

A day passed, and Indians began rapidly to come in. 
Parties of two, three, or more would ride up and silently 
seat themselves on the grass. The fourth day came at last, 
when about noon horsemen appeared in view on the sum- 
mit of the neighboring ridge. Behind followed a wild pro- 
cession, hurrying in haste and disorder down the hill and 
over the plain below; horses, mules and dogs; heavily- 
burdened traineaux, mounted warriors, squaws walking 
amid the throng, and a host of children. For a full half- 
hour they continued to pour down; and keeping directly 
to the bend of the stream, within a furlong of us, they 
soon assembled there, a dark and confused throng, until, 
as if by magic, a hundred and fifty tall lodges sprang up. 
The lonely plain was transformed into the site of a swarm- 
ing encampment. Countless horses were soon grazing 
over the meadows around us, and the prairie was 
animated by restless figures careering on horseback, or 
sedately stalking in their long white robes. The Whirl- 
wind was come at last. One question yet remained to be 
answered : ' ' AVill he go to the war in order that we, with 
so respectable an escort, may pass over to the somewhat 
perilous rendezvous at La Bonte's campf 

This still remained in doubt. Characteristic indecision 
perplexed their councils. Indians cannot act in large 
bodies. Though their object be of the highest importance, 
they cannot combine to attain it by a series of connected 
efforts. King Philip, Pontiac, and Tecumseh, all felt this 
to their cost.^ The Ogillallah once had a war-chief who 
could control them; but he was dead, and now they were 
left to the sway of their own. unsteady impulses. 

1 These well-known chiefs were leaders in the most formidable of 
the Indian movements against the whites. 



132 THE OREGON TRAIL 

This Indian village and its inhabitants will hold a prom- 
inent place in the rest of the story, and perhaps it maj" 
not be amiss to glance for an instant at the savage people 
of which they form a part. The Dahcotah or Sioux range 
over a vast territory, from the river St. Peter to the Rocky 
]\Iountains. They are divided into several independent 
bands, united under no central government and acknowl- 
edging no common head. The same language, usages, and 
superstitions form the sole bond between them. They do 
not unite even in their wars. The bands of the east fight 
the Ojibwas on the Upper Lakes; those of the west make 
incessant war upon the Snake Indians in the Rocky 
]\Iountains. As the whole people is divided into bands, 
so each band is divided into villages. Each village has a 
chief, who is honored and obeyed only so far as his per- 
sonal qualities may command respect and fear. Some- 
times he is a mere nominal chief; sometimes his authority 
is little short of absolute, and his fame and influence reach 
beyond his own village, so that the whole band to which 
he belongs is ready to acknowledge him as their head. 
This was, a few years since, the case with the Ogillallah. 
Courage, address, and enterprise may raise any warrior 
to the highest honor, especially if he be the son of a former 
chief, or a member of a numerous family, to support him 
and avenge his quarrels; but when he has reached the 
dignity of chief, and the old men and warriors, by a 
peculiar ceremony, have formally installed him, let it not 
be imagined that he assumes any of the outward signs of 
rank and honor. He knows too well on how frail a tenure 
he holds his station. He must conciliate his uncertain 
subjects. Many a man in the village lives better, owns 
more squaws and more horses, and goes better clad than 
he. Like the Teutonic chiefs of old, he ingratiates him- 
self with his young men by making them presents, thereby 
often impoverishing himself. If he fails to gain their 
favor, they will set his authority at naught, and may desert 
him at any moment; for the usages of his people have 
provided no sanction by which he may enforce his authority. 



SCENES AT THE CAMP 133 

Very seldom does it happen, at least among these western 
bands, that a chief attains to much power, unless he is the 
head of a numerous family. Frequently the village is 
principally made up of his relatives and descendants, and 
the wandering community assumes much of the patriarchal 
character. 

The western Dahcotah have no fixed habitations. Hunt- 
ing and fighting, they wander incessantly, through summer 
and winter. Some follow the herds of buffalo over the 
waste of prairie; others traverse the Black Hills, throng- 
ing, on horseback and on foot, through the dark gulfs and 
sombre gorges, and emerging at last upon the "Parks," - 
those beautiful but most perilous hunting-grounds. The 
buffalo supplies them with the necessaries of life; with 
habitations, food, clothing and fuel; with strings for their 
bows, glue, thread, cordage, and trail-ropes for their horses, 
coverings for their saddles, vessels to hold water, boats to 
cross streams, and the means of purchasing all that they 
desire from the traders. When the buffalo are extinct, they 
too must dwindle away. 

War is the breath of their nostrils. Against most of 
the neighboring tribes they cherish a rancorous hatred, 
transmitted from father to son, and inflamed by constant 
aggression and retaliation. Many times a year, in every 
village, the Great Spirit is called upon, fasts are made, 
the war-parade is celebrated, and the warriors go out by 
handfuls at a time against the enemy. This fierce spirit 
awakens their most eager aspirations, and calls forth their 
greatest energies. It is chiefly this that saves them from 
lethargy and utter abasement. Without its powerful 
stimulus they would be like the unwarlike tribes beyond 
the mountains, scattered among the caves and rocks like 
beasts, and living on roots and reptiles. These latter 
have little of humanity except the form; but the proud 
and ambitious Dahcotah warrior can sometimes boast 
heroic virtues. It is seldom that distinction and influence 

2 The " Three Parks " lie in the mountains, just to the southwest 
of the Black Hills. 



134 THE OREGON TRAIL 

are attained among them by any other course than that 
of arms. Their superstition, however, sometimes gives 
great power to those among them who pretend to the 
character of magicians. 

But to return. Look into our tent, or enter, if you can 
bear the stifling smoke and the close air. There, wedged 
close together, you will see a circle of stout warriors, 
passing the pipe around, joking, telling stories, and mak- 
ing themselves merry after their fashion. We were also 
infested by little copper-colored naked boys and snake- 
eyed girls. They would come up to us, muttering certain 
words, which being interpreted conveyed the concise in- 
vitation, "Come and eat." Then we would rise, cursing 
the pertinacity of Dahcotah hospitality, which allowed 
scarcely an hour of rest between sun and sun, and to which 
we were bound to do honor, unless we would offend our 
entertainers. This necessity was particularly burdensome 
to me, as I was scarcely able to walk, from the effects of 
illness, and was poorly qualified to dispose of twenty meals 
a day. So bounteous an entertainment looks like an out- 
gushing of good-will; but, doubtless, half at least of our 
kind hosts, had they met us alone and unarmed on the 
prairie, would have robbed us of our horses, and perhaps 
have bestowed an arrow upon us besides. 

One morning we were summoned to the lodge of an old 
man, the Nestor ^ of his tribe. We found him half sitting, 
half reclining, on a pile of buffalo-robes; his long hair, 
jet-black, though he had seen some eighty winters, hung on 
either side of his thin features. His gaunt but symmetri- 
cal frame did not more clearly exhibit the wreck of by- 
gone strength, than did his dark, wasted features, still 
prominent and commanding, bear the stamp of mental 
energies. As I saw him, I recalled the eloquent metaphor 
of the Iroquois sachem : "I ani an aged hemlock ; the 
winds of an hundred winters have whistled through my 
branches, and I am dead at the top!" 

The old man's story is peculiar, and illustrative of a 

3 Nestor was the oldest and wisest of the Greeks before Troy. 



SCENES AT THE CAMP 135 

superstition that prevails in full force among many of the 
Indian tribes. He was one of a powerful family, renowned 
for warlike exploits. When a very young man, he sub- 
mitted to the singular rite to which most of the tribe subject 
themselves before entering upon life. He painted his face 
black; then seeking out a cavern in a sequestered part of 
the Black Hills, he lay for several days, fasting, and pray- 
ing to the spirits. In the dreams and visions produced by 
his weakened and excited state, he fancied, like all In- 
dians, that he saw supernatural revelations. Again and 
again the form of an antelope appeared before him. The 
antelope is the graceful peace-spirit of the Ogillallah; but 
seldom is it that such a gentle visitor presents itself dur- 
ing the initiatory fasts of their young men. The terrible 
grizzly bear, the divinity of war, usually appears to fire 
them with martial ardor and thirst for renown. At 
length the antelope spoke. It told the young dreamer 
that he was not to follow the path of war; that a life of 
peace and tranquillity was marked out for him ; that thence- 
forward he was to guide the people by his counsels, and 
protect them from the evils of their own feuds and dis- 
sensions. Others were to gain renown by fighting the 
enemy; but greatness of a different kind was in store for 
him. 

The visions beheld during the period of this fast usually 
determine the whole course of the dreamer's life. From 
that time, Le Borgne, which was the only name by which 
we knew him, abandoned all thoughts of war, and devoted 
himself to the labors of peace. He told his vision to the 
people. They honored his commission and respected him in 
his novel capacity. 

A far different man was his brother, Mahto-Tatonka, 
who had left his name, his features, and many of his qual- 
ities to his son. He was the father of Henry Chatillon's 
squaw, a circumstance which proved of some advantage to 
us, as it secured the friendship of a family perhaps the 
most distinguished and powerful in the whole Ogillallah 
band. Mahto-Tatonka, in his rude way, was a hero. No 



136 THE OKEGON TEAIL 

chief could vie with him in warlike renown, or in power 
over his people. He had a fearless spirit, and an impetu- 
ous and inflexible resolution. His will was law. He was 
politic and sagacious, and with true Indian craft, always 
befriended the whites, well knowing that he might thus 
reap great advantages for himself and his adherents. 
When he had resolved on any course of .conduct, he would 
pay to the warriors the compliment of calling them to- 
gether to deliberate upon it, and when their debates were 
over, quietly state his own opinion, which no one ever dis- 
puted. Woe to those who incurred his displeasure. He 
would strike them or stab them on the spot; and this act, 
w^hich if attempted by any other chief would have cost 
him his life, the awe inspired by his name enabled him to 
repeat again and again with impunity. In a community 
where, from immemorial time, no man has acknowledged 
any law but his own will, Mahto-Tatonka by the force of 
his dauntless resolution, raised himself to power little short 
of despotic. His career came at last to an end. He had 
a host of enemies only waiting an opportunity for re- 
venge; and our old friend Smoke in particular, together 
wdth all his kinsmen, hated him cordially. Smoke sat one 
day in his lodge, in the midst of his own village, when 
Mahto-Tatonka entered it alone, and approaching the 
dwelling of his enemy, challenged him in a loud voice to 
come out, and fight. Smoke would not move. At this, 
Mahto-Tatonka proclaimed him a coward and an old 
woman, and, striding to the entrance of the lodge, stabbed 
the chief's best horse, which was picketed there. Smoke 
was daunted, and even this insult failed to bring him out. 
Mahto-Tatonka moved haughtily away; all made way for 
him ; but his hour of reckoning was near. 

One hot day, five or six years ago, numerous lodges of 
Smoke's kinsmen were gathered about some of the Fur 
Company's men, who were trading in various articles with 
them, whiskey among the rest. ]\Iahto-Tatonka was also 
there with a few of his people. As he lay in his own lodge, 
a fray arose between his adherents and the kinsmen of his 



SCENES AT THE CAMP 137 

enemy. The war-whoop was raised, bullets and arrows be- 
gan to fly, and the camp was in confusion. The chief 
sprang up, and rushing in a fur^^ from the lodge shouted 
to the combatants on both sides to cease. Instantly — for 
the attack was preconcerted — came the reports of two or 
three guns and the twanging of a dozen bows, and the 
savage hero, mortally wounded, pitched forward headlong 
to the ground. Rouleau was present, and told me the par- 
ticulars. The tumult became general, and was not quelled 
until several had fallen on both sides. When we were in 
the country the feud between the two families was still 
rankling. 

Thus died ]\Iahto-Tatonka ; but he left behind him a 
goodly army of descendants, to perpetuate his renown and 
avenge his fate. Besides daughters, he had thirty sons, a 
number which need not stagger the credulity of those ac- 
quainted with Indian usages and practices. We saw many 
of them, all marked by the same dark complexion, and the 
same peculiar cast of features. Of these, our visitor, young 
Mahto-Tatonka, was the eldest, and some reported him 
as likely to succeed to his father 's honors. Though he ap- 
peared not more than twenty-one years old, he had oftener 
struck the enemy, and stolen more horses and more squaws, 
than any young man in the village. Horse-stealing is well 
known as an avenue to distinction on the prairies, and the 
other kind of depredation is esteemed equally meritorious. 
Not that the act can confer fame from its own intrinsic 
merits. Any one can steal a squaw, and if he chooses after- 
wards to make an adequate present to her rightful proprie- 
tor, the easy husband for the most part rests content, his 
vengeance falls asleep, and all danger from that quarter 
is averted. Yet this is regarded as a pitiful and mean- 
spirited transaction. The danger is averted, but the glory 
of the achievement also is lost. Mahto-Tatonka proceeded 
after a more dashing fashion. Out of several dozen squaws 
whom he had stolen, he could boast that he had never paid 
for one, but snapping his fingers in the face of the injured 
husband, had defied the extremity of his indignation, and 



138 THE OKEGON TRAIL 

no one yet had dared to lay the finger of violence upon him. 
He was following close in the footsteps of his father. The 
young men and the young squaws, each in their way, ad- 
mired him. The one would always follow him to war, 
and he was esteemed to have an unrivalled charm in the 
eyes of the other. Perhaps his impunity may excite some 
wonder. An arrow shot from a ravine, or a stab given in 
the dark, require no great valor, and are especially suited 
to the Indian genius ; but Mahto-Tatonka hacl a strong pro- 
tection. It was not alone his courage and audacious will 
that enabled him to career so dashingly among his com- 
peers. His enemies did not forget that he was one of the 
thirty warlike brethren, all growing up to manhood. 
Should they wreak their anger upon him, many keen ej^es 
w^ould be ever upon them, and many fierce hearts thirst 
for their blood. The avenger would dog their footsteps 
everywhere. To kill Mahto-Tatonka would be an act of 
suicide. 

Though favored in the eyes of the fair, he was no dandy. 
He never arrayed himself in gaudy blanket and glittering 
necklaces, but left his statue-like form, limbed like an Apollo 
of bronze, to win its way to favor. His voice w^as singularly 
deep and strong, and sounded from his chest like the deep 
notes of an organ. Yet after all, he was but an Indian. 
See him as he lies there in the sun before our tent, kick- 
ing his heels in the air and cracking jokes with his brother. 
Does he look like a hero ? See him now in the Hour of his 
glory, when at sunset the whole village empties itself to 
behold him, for to-morrow their favorite young partisan 
goes out against the enemy. His head-dress is adorned 
with a crest of the war-eagle's feathers, rising in a wav- 
ing ridge above his brow, and sweeping far behind him. 
His round white shield hangs at his breast, with feathers 
radiating from the centre like a star. His c[uiver is at his 
back; his tall lance in his hand, the iron point flashing 
against the declining sun, while the long scalp-locks of his 
enemies flutter from the shaft. Thus, gorgeous as a cham- 
pion in panoply, he rides round and round within the 



SCENES AT THE CAMP 139 

great circles of lodges, balancing with a graceful buoyancy 
to the free movements of his war-horse, while with a sedate 
brow he sings his song to the Great Spirit. Young rival 
warriors look askance at him; vermilion-cheeked girls gaze 
in admiration ; boys whoop and scream in a thrill of de- 
light, and old women yell forth his name and proclaim his 
praises from lodge to lodge. 

Mahto-Tatonka was the best of all of our Indian friends. 
Hour after hour, and da.y after day, when swarms of sav- 
ages of every age, sex, and degree beset our camp, he would 
lie in our tent, his lynx-eye ever open to guard our prop- 
erty from pillage. 

The Whirlwind invited us one day to his lodge. The 
feast was finished and the pipe began to circulate. It was 
a remarkably large and fine one, and I expressed admira- 
tion of its form and dimensions. 

* * If the Meneaska likes the pipe, ' ' asked The Whirlwind, 
* ' why does he not keep it ? " 

Such a pipe among the Ogillallah is valued at the price 
of a horse. A princely gift and seemingly worthy of a 
chieftain; but The Whirlwind's generosity rose to no such 
pitch. He gave me the pipe, confidently expecting that I 
in return would make him a present of equal or superior 
value. This is the implied condition of every gift among 
the Indians, and should it not be complied with, the present 
is usually reclaimed. So I arranged upon a gaudy calico 
handkerchief, and assortment of vermilion, tobacco, knives, 
and gunpowder, and summoning the chief to camp, assured 
him of my friendship, and begged his acceptance of a slight 
token of it. Ejaculating How! hoiv! he folded up the offer- 
ings and withdrew to his lodge. 

Late one afternoon a party of them on horseback came 
suddenly in sight from behind some clumps of bushes that 
lined the bank of the stream, leading with them a mule, on 
whose back was a wretched negro, sustained in his seat by 
the high pommel and cantle of the Indian saddle. His 
cheeks w^ere shrunken in the hollow of his .jaws; his eyes 
w^ere unnaturally dilated, and his lips shrivelled and drawn 



140 THE OREGON TRAIL. 

back from his teeth like those of a corpse. "When they 
brought him before our tent, and lifted him from the saddle, 
he could not walk or stand, but crawled a short distance, 
and with a look of utter misery sat down on the grass. All 
the children and women came pouring out of the lodges, and 
with screams and cries made a circle about him, while he sat 
supporting himself with his hands, and looking from side 
to side with a vacant stare. The wretch was starving to 
death. For thirty-three days he had wandered alone on 
the prairie, without w^eapon of any kind; without shoes, 
moccasins, or any other clothing than an old jacket and 
trousers; without intelligence to guide his course, or any 
knowledge of the productions of the prairie. All this time 
he had subsisted on crickets and lizards, wild onions, and 
three eggs which he found in the nest of a prairie-dove. 
He had not seen a human being. Bewildered in the bound- 
less, hopeless desert that stretched around him, he had 
walked on in despair, till he could walk no longer, and then 
crawled on his knees, till the bone was laid bare. He chose 
the night for travelling, lying down by day to sleep in the 
glaring sun, always dreaming, as he said, of the broth and 
corn-cake he used to eat under his old master's shed in 
Missouri. Every man in the camp, both white and red, 
was astonished at his escape, not only from starvation, but 
from the grizzly bears, which abound in that neighborhood, 
and the wolves which howled around him every night. 

Reynal recognized him the moment the Indians brought 
him in. He had run away from his master about a year 
before and joined the party of Richard, who was then leav- 
ing the frontier for the mountains. He had lived with 
Richard until, at the end of May, he with Reynal and sev- 
eral other men went out in search of some stray horses, 
when he w^as separated from the rest in a storm, and had 
never been heard of to this time. Knowing his inexperience 
and helplessness, no one dreamed that he could still be liv- 
ing. The Indians had found him lying exhausted on the 
ground. 

As he sat there, with the Indians gazing silently on him. 



SCENES AT THE CAMP 141 

his haggard face and glazed eye were disgusting to look 
upon. Deslauriers made him a bowl of gruel, but he suf- 
fered it to remain untasted before him. At length he 
languidly raised the spoon to his lips ; again he did so, and 
again ; and then his appetite seemed suddenly inflamed into 
madness, for he seized the bowl, swallowed all its contents 
in a few seconds, and eagerly demanded meat. This we 
refused, telling him to wait until morning; but he begged 
so eagerly that we gave him a small piece, which he de- 
voured, tearing it like a dog. He said he must have more. 
We told him that his life was in danger if he ate so immod- 
erately at first. He assented, and said he knew he was a 
fool to do so, but he must have meat. This we absolutely 
refused, to the great indignation of the senseless squaws, 
who, when we were not watching him, would sh'^ly bring 
dried meat and poynmes hlanclies,'^ and place them on the 
ground \)y his side. Still this was not enough for him. 
When it grew dark he contrived to creep away between the 
legs of the horses and crawl over to the Indian village. 
Here he fed to his heart's content, and was brought back 
again in the morning, when Gingras, the trapper, put him 
on horseback, and carried him to the fort. He managed to 
survive the effects of his greediness, and though slightly de- 
ranged when we left this part of the country, he was other- 
wise in tolerable health, and expressed his firm conviction 
that nothing could ever kill him. 

When the sun was yet an hour high, it was a gay scene 
in the village. The warriors stalked sedately among the 
lodges, or along the margin of the stream, or walked out 
to visit the bands of horses that were feeding over the 
prairie. Half the population deserted the close and heated 
lodges and betook themselves to the water; and here you 
might see boys and girls, and young squaws, splashing, 
swimming, and diving, beneath the afternoon sun, with 
merry laughter and screaming. But when the sun was 
resting above the broken peaks, and the purple mountains 
threw their shadows for miles over the prairie; when our 

4 White potatoes. 



142 THE OREGON TRAIL 

old tree, lighted by the horizontal rays, assumed an aspect 
of peaceful repose, — and the swelling plains and scattered 
groves were softened into a tranquil beauty, — then our 
encampment presented a striking spectacle, worthy of 
the pencil of Salvator.^ Savage figures, Avith quivers at 
their backs, and guns, lances, or tomahawks in their hands, 
some sat on horseback, motionless as statues, their arms 
crossed on their breasts and their eyes fixed in a steady 
unwavering gaze upon us. Some stood erect, wrapped 
from head to foot in their long white robes of buffalo- 
hide. Some sat together on the grass, holding their shaggy 
horses by a rope, with their dark busts exposed to view 
as they suffered their robes to fall from their shoulders. 
Others stood carelessly among the throng, with nothing to 
conceal the matchless symmetry of their forms. Onl}^ on 
the prairie and in the Vatican ® have I seen such faultless 
models of the human figure. 

When the sky darkened, the horses were driven in 
and secured near the camp, and the crowd began to melt 
away. Fires gleamed around, duskily revealing the rough 
trappers and the graceful Indians. One of the families 
was always gathered about a bright blaze that lighted up 
the shadowy outlines of their lodges. Witch-like hags 
flitted around the fire; and here for hour after hour sat a 
circle of children and young girls, laughing and talking, 
their round merry faces glowing in the ruddy light. We 
could hear the monotonous notes of the drum from the 
Indian camp, with the chant of the war-song, deadened in 
the distance, and the long chorus of quavering yells, where 
the war-dance was going on in the largest lodge. For sev- 
eral nights, too, we heard wild and mournful cries, rising 
and dying away like the melancholy voice of a wolf. They 
came from the sisters and female relatives of Mahto-Ta- 
tonka, who were gashing their limbs with knives, and be- 
wailing the death of Henry Chatillon's squaw. The hour 
would grow late before all retired to rest in the camp. 

5 An Italian painter of wild and romantic landscape. 

6 The Vatican possesses a famous gallery of sculpture. 



SCENES AT THE CAMP 143 

Then, when the embers of the fires would be glowing 
dimly, the men would lay stretched in their blankets on 
the ground, and nothing could be heard but the restless 
motions of the crowded horses. 

I recall these scenes with a mixed feeling of pleasure and 
pain. At this time, I was so reduced by illness that I 
could seldom walk without reeling like a drunken man, 
and when I rose from my seat upon the ground the land- 
scape suddenly grew dim before my eyes, the trees and 
lodges, seemed to sway to and fro, and the prairie to rise 
and fall like the swells of the ocean. Such a state of things 
is not enviable anywhere. In a country where a man 's life 
may at any moment depend on the strength of his arm, or 
it may be on the activity of his legs, it is more particularly 
inconvenient. Nor is sleeping on damp ground, with an 
occasional drenching from a shower, to be recommended. I 
sometimes suffered the extremity of exhaustion, and though 
at the time I felt no apprehensions of the final result, I 
have since learned that my situation was a critical one. 

I tried repose and a very sparing diet. For a long time, 
with exemplary patience, I lounged about the camp, or at 
the utmost staggered over to the Indian village, and walked 
faint and dizzy among the lodges. It would not do ; and I 
bethought me of starvation. During five days I sustained 
life on one small biscuit a day. At the end of that time 
the disorder seemed shaken in its stronghold, and very 
gradually I began to resume a less rigid diet. 

I used to lie languid and dreamy before our tent, mus- 
ing on the past and the future, and when most overcome 
with lassitude, my eyes turned always towards the distant 
Black Hills. There is a spirit of energy in mountains, and 
they impart it to all who approach them. At that time I 
did not know how many dark superstitions and gloomy 
legends are associated with the Black Hills in the minds 
of the Indians, but I felt an eager desire to penetrate their 
hidden recesses, and explore the chasms and precipices, 
black torrents and silent forests that I fancied were con- 
cealed there. 



CHAPTER XII 

ILL-LUCK 

'A Canadl\n came from Fort Laramie, and brought a 
curious piece of intelligence. A trapper, fresh from the 
mountains, had become enamoured of a Missouri damsel 
belonging to a family who with othft* emigrants had been 
for some days encamped in the neighborhood of the fort. 
If bravery be the most potent charm to win the favor of the 
fair, then no wooer could be more irresistible than a Rocky 
Mountain trapper. In the present instance, the suit was 
not urged in vain. The lovers concerted a scheme, which 
they proceeded to carry into effect with all possible des- 
patch. The emigrant party left the fort, and on the next 
night but one encamped as usual, and placed a guard. A 
little after midnight, the enamoured trapper drew near, 
mounted on a strong horse, and leading another by the 
bridle. Fastening both animals to a tree, he stealthily 
moved towards the wagons, as if he were approaching a 
band of buffalo. Eluding the vigilance of the guard, who 
were probably half asleep, he met his mistress by appoint- 
ment at the outskirts of the camp, mounted her on his spare 
horse, and made off with her through the darkness. The 
sequel of the adventure did not reach our ears, and we never 
learned how the imprudent fair one liked an Indian lodge 
for a dwelling, and a reckless trapper for a bridegroom. 

At length The Whirlwind and his warriors determined 
to move. They had resolved after all their preparations 
not to go to the rendezvous at La Bonte's camp, but to pass 
through the Black Hills and spend a few weeks in hunting 
the buffalo on the other side, until they had killed enough 
to furnish them with a stock of provisions and with hides 

144 



ILL-LUCK 145 

to make their lodges for the next season. This done, they 
were to send out a small independent war-party against 
the enemy. Their final determination left ns in some 
embarrassment. Should we go to La Bonte's camp, it was 
not impossible that the other villages Avould prove as vacil- 
lating as The Whirlwind's, and that no assembly whatever 
would take place. Our old companion Reynal had con- 
ceived a liking for us, or rather for our biscuit and coffee, 
and for the occasional small presents which we made him. 
He was very anxious that we should go with the village 
which he himself intended to accompany. He was certain 
that no Indians would meet at the rendezvous, and said, 
moreover, that it would be easy to convey our cart and 
baggage through the Black Hills. But this was a false- 
hood, as usual. Neither he nor any white man with us had 
ever seen the difficult and obscure defiles through which the 
Indians intended to make their way. I passed them after- 
wards, and had much ado to force, my distressed horse along 
the narrow ravines, and through chasms where daylight 
could scarcely penetrate. Our cart might as easily have 
been taken over the summit of Pike's Peak,^ Anticipating 
the difficulties and uncertainties of an attempt to visit the 
rendezvous, we recalled the old proverb, about ''A bird 
in the hand," and decided to follow the village. 

Both camps, the Indians' and our own, broke up on the 
morning of the first of July. I was so weak that the aid 
of a spoonful of whiskey, swallowed at short intervals, 
alone enabled me to keep my saddle through the short 
journey of that day. For half a mile before us and half a 
mile behind, the prairie was covered far and wide with the 
moving throng of savages. The barren, broken plain 
stretched away to the right and left, and far in front rose 
the precipitous ridge of the Black Hills. We pushed for- 
ward to the head of the scattered column, passing burdened 
traineaux, heavily laden pack-horses, gaunt old women on 

1 One of the highest peaks of the Rocky mountains, named after 
Zebulon Pike, who visited it in 1806. Parkman passed it later, p. 
272. 



146 THE OREGON TRAIL 

foot, gay young squaws on horseback, restless children 
running among the crowd, old men striding along in their 
white buffalo-robes, and groups of young warriors mounted 
on their best horses. Henry Chatillon, looking backward 
over the distant prairie, exclaimed suddenly that a horse- 
man was approaching, and in truth we could just discern 
a small black speck slowly moving over the face of the 
distant swell, like a fly creeping on the Avail. It rapidly 
grew larger as it approached. 

''White man, I b'lieve," said Henry; ''look how he ride. 
Indian never ride that way. Yes ; he got rifle on the saddle 
before him." 

The horseman disappeared in a hollow of the prairie, but 
we soon saw him again, and as he came riding at a gallop 
towards us through the crowd of Indians, his long hair 
streaming in the wind behind him, w^e recognized the ruddy 
face and old buckskin frock of Jean Gras the trapper. He 
was just arrived from Fort Laramie, and said he had a mes- 
sage for us. A trader named Bisonette, one of Henry's 
friends, had lately come from the settlements, and intentled 
to go with a part}^ of men to La Bonte's camp, where, as 
Jean Gras assured us, ten or twelve villages of Indians 
would certainly assemble. Bisonette desired that we would 
cross over and meet him there, and promised that his men 
should protect our horses and baggage while we went 
among the Indians. Shaw and I stopped our horses, held 
a council, and in an evil hour resolved to go. 

For the rest of that day our course and that of the 
Indians was the same. In less than an hour we came to 
where the high barren prairie terminated, sinking down 
abruptly in steep descent ; and standing on these heights we 
saw below us a great meadow. Laramie Creek bounded it 
on the left, sweeping along in the shadow of the declivities,, 
and passing with its shallow and rapid current just beneath 
us. We sat on horseback, waiting and looking on, while 
the whole savage array went pouring past us, hurrying 
down the descent and spreading over the meadow below. 
In a few moments the plain was swarming with the moving 



ILL-LUCK 147 

multitude, some just visible, like specks in the distance, 
others still passing on and fording the stream in bustle 
and confusion. On the edge of the heights sat a group 
of the elder warriors, gravely smoking and looking down 
with unmoved faces on the wild and striking spectacle. 

Up went the lodges in a circle on the margin of the 
stream. For the sake of quiet we pitched our tent among 
some trees half a mile distant. In the afternoon we were 
in the village. The day was a glorious one, and the whole 
camp seemed lively and animated in sympathy. Groups 
of children and young girls were laughing gaily on the out- 
side of the lodges. The shields, the lances, and the bows 
were removed from the tall tripods on which they usually 
hung, before the dwellings of their owners. The warriors 
were mounting their horses, and one by one riding away 
over the prairie toward the neighboring hills. 

Shaw and I sat on the grass near the lodge of Reynal. 
An old woman, with true Indian hospitality, brought a 
bowl of boiled venison and placed it before us. We amused 
ourselves with watching half a dozen young squaws who 
were playing together and chasing each other in and out of 
one of the lodges. Suddenly the wild yell of the war-whoop 
came pealing from the hills. A crowd of horsemen ap- 
peared, rushing down their sides, and riding at full speed 
towards the village, each warrior's long hair flying behind 
him in the wind like a ship's streamer. As they ap- 
proached, the confused throng assumed a regular order, 
and entering two by two, they circled round the area at full 
gallop, each warrior singing his war-song as he rode. Some 
of their dresses w^re splendid. They wore crests of 
feathers, and close tunics of antelope skins, fringed with 
the scalp-locks of their enemies; their shields, too, were 
often fluttering with the war-eagle's feathers. All had 
bows and arrows at their backs; some carried long lances, 
and a few were armed with guns. The White Shield, their 
partisan, rode in gorgeous attire at their head, mounted 
on a black-and-white horse. Mahto-Tatonka and his 
brothers took no part in this parade, for they were in 



148 THE OREGON TRAIL 

mourning for their sister, and were all sitting in their 
lodges, their bodies bedaubed from head to foot with white 
clay, and a lock of hair cut from each of their foreheads. 

The warriors circled three times around the village ; and 
as each distinguished champion passed, the old women 
would scream out his name, in honor of his bravery, and 
to incite the emulation of the younger warriors. Little 
urchins, not two years old, followed the warlike pageant 
with glittering eyes, and looked with eager wonder and 
admiration. 

The procession rode out of the village as it had entered 
it, and in half an hour all the warriors had returned again, 
dropping quietly in, singly or in parties of two or three. 

As the sun rose next morning we looked across the 
meadow, and could see the lodges levelled and the Indians 
gathering together in preparation to leave the camp. Their 
course lay to the westward. We turned towards the north 
with our three men, the four trappers following us, with 
the Indian family of Morin. We travelled until night. 
We then encamped among some trees by the side of a little 
brook, and here during the whole of the next day we lay 
waiting for Bisonette; but no Bisonette appeared. Here 
two of our trapper friends left us, and set out for the 
Rocky Mountains. On the second morning, despairing of 
Bisonette 's arrival, we resumed our journey, traversing a 
forlorn and dreary monotony of sun-scorched plains, where 
no living thing appeared save here and there an antelope 
flying before us like the wind. When noon came we saw 
an unwonted and welcome sight; a luxuriant growth of 
trees, marking the course of a little stream called Horse- 
shoe Creek. There were lofty and spreading trees stand- 
ing widely asunder, and supporting a thick canopy of 
leaves above a surface of rich, tall grass. The stream ran 
swiftly, as clear as crystal, through the bosom of the wood, 
as it entered a deep cavern of leaves and boughs. I was 
thoroughly exhausted, and flung myself on the ground, 
scarcely able to move. 

In the morning, as glorious a sun rose upon us as ever 



ILL-LUCK 1^^ 



animated that wilderness. We advanced and soon were 
surrounded by tall bare hills, overspread from top to bot- 
tom with priekly-pears and other eaet. that seemed 1 ke 
clinging reptiles. A plain, flat and hard, with scarcely the 
vestige of grass, lay before us, and a me of tall mis- 
shapen trees bounded the onward view. There was no sight 
or sound of man or beast, or any living thing, although 
behind those trees was the long-looked-for place of rendez- 
vous where we hoped to have found the Indians congre- 
gated by thousands. We looked and listened anxiously. 
We pushed forward with our best speed, and forced our 
horses through the trees. There were copses of some ex- 
tent beyond, with a scanty stream creeping hrough their 
mklst and as we pressed through the yielding branches 
der sprang up to the right and left. At length we caught 
a glimpse of the prairie beyond, emerged upon it, and saw, 
not a plain covered with encampments and swarmmg with 
life but a vast unbroken desert stretching away before us 
eague upon league, without bush or tree, or any thmg that 
had life We drew rein and gave to the winds our senti- 
ments concerning the whole aboriginal race of America. 
Sur iournev waf in vain. For myself I was vexed be- 
vmKl measm-e; as I well knew that a slight aggravation 
of mv disorder would render this false step irrevocable, and 
S ft in possible to accomplish efecctually the design 
which had led me an arduous journey of between three and 
four thousand miles. 1 1 j ;„ 

And where were the Indians? They were assembled in 
grfat numbers at a spot twenty miles distant, where at 
that very moment they were dancing their war dances. 
The scarcity of buifalo in the vicinity of La Bonte's camp 
which would render their supply of provisions scanty and 
precarious, had probably prevented them from assembling 
there ; but of all this we knew nothing until some weeks 

^ Shaw lashed his horse and galloped forward. I, though 
much more vexed than he, was not strong eno^Jgl^ to a^opt 
this convenient vent to my feelings; so I followed at a 



150 THE OREGON TRAIL 

quiet pace. We rode up to a solitary old tree, which seemed 
the only place fit for encampment. Half its branches were 
dead, and the rest were so scantily furnished with leaves 
that they cast but a meagre and wretched shade. We threw 
down our saddles in the strip of shadow, cast by the old 
twisted trunk, and sat down upon them. In silent indigna- 
tion we remained smoking for an hour or more, shifting 
our saddles with the shifting shadow, for the sun was in- 
tolerably hot. 



CHAPTER XIII 

HUNTING INDIANS 

At last we had reached La Bonte's camp, towards which 
our eyes had turned so long. Of all weary hours, those that 
passed between noon and sunset of that day may bear 
away the palm of exquisite discomfort. I lay under the 
tree reflecting on what course to pursue, watching the 
shadows which seemed never to move, and the sun which 
seemed fixed in the slcy, and hoping every moment to see 
the men and horses of Bisonette emerging from the woods. 
Shaw and Henry had ridden out on a scouting expedition, 
and did not return till the sun w^as setting. There was 
nothing very cheering in their faces or in the news they 
brought. 

'^ We have been ten miles from here," said Shaw. ''We 
climbed the highest butte we could find, and could not 
see a buffalo or an Indian : nothing but prairie for twenty 
miles around us." Henry's horse was disabled by clam- 
bering up and down the sides of ravines, and Shaw's was 
much fatigued. 

After supper that evening, as we sat around the fire, I 
proposed to Shaw to wait one day longer, in hopes of 
Bisonette 's arrival, and if he should not come, to send 
Deslauriers with the cart and baggage back to Fort Lara- 
mie, Avhile we ourselves followed The Whirlwind's village, 
and attempted to overtake it as it passed the mountains. 
Shaw, not having the same motive for hunting Indians that 
I had, was averse to the plan ; I therefore resolved to go 
alone. This design I adopted very unwillingly, for I knew 
that in the present state of my health the attempt would 
be very unpleasant and hazardous. I hoped that Bisonette 

151 



152 THE OREGON TRAIL 

would appear in the course of the following day, and bring 
us some information by which to direct our course, en- 
abling me to accomplish my purpose by means less objec- 
tionable. 

The rifle of Henry Chatillon was necessary for the sub- 
sistence of the party in my absence ; so I called Raymond, 
and ordered him to prepare to set out with me. Raymond 
rolled his eyes vacantly about, but at length, having suc- 
ceeded in grappling with the idea, he withdrew to his bed 
under the cart. He was a heavy-moulded fellow, with a 
broad face, expressing impenetrable stupidity and entire 
self-confidence. As for his good qualities, he had a sort of 
stubborn fidelity, an insensibility to danger, and a kind of 
instinct or sagacity, which sometimes led him right, where 
better heads than his were at a loss. Besides this, he knew 
very well how to handle a rifle and picket a horse. 

Through the following day the sun glared down upon 
us with a pitiless, penetrating heat. The distant blue 
prairie seemed quivering under it. Our rifles, as they 
leaned against the tree, were too hot for the touch. There 
was a dead silence through our camp, broken only by 
the hum of gnats and mosquitoes. The men, resting their 
foreheads on their arms, were sleeping under the cart. 
The Indians kept close within their lodge, except the 
newly-married pair, who were seated together under an 
awning of buffalo-robes, and the old conjurer, who, with 
his hard, emaciated face and gaunt ribs, was perched aloft 
like a turkej^-buzzard, among the dead branches of an old 
tree, constantly on the lookout for enemies. We dined, and 
then Shaw saddled his horse. 

''I will ride back," said he, ''to Horseshoe Creek, and 
see if Bisonette is there." 

"I would go with you," I answered, ''but I must re- 
serve all the strength I have." 

The afternoon dragged away at last. I occupied myself 
in cleaning my rifle and pistols, and making other prepara- 
tions for the journey. It was late before T wrapped my- 
self in my blanket, and lay down for the night, with my 



HUNTING INDIANS 153 

head on my saddle. Shaw had not returned, but this gave 
us no uneasiness, for we presumed that he had fallen in 
with Bisonette, and was spending the night with him. For 
a day or two past I had gained in strength and health, but 
about midnight an attack of pain awoke me, and for some 
hours I felt no inclination to sleep. The moon was quiver- 
ing on the broad breast of the Platte ; nothing could be 
heard except those low inexplicable sounds, like whisper- 
ings and footsteps, which no one who has spent the night 
alone amid deserts and forests will be at a loss to under- 
stand. As I was falling asleep, a familiar voice, shouting 
from the distance, awoke me again. A rapid step ap- 
proached the camp, and Shaw on foot, with his gun in his 
hand, hastily entered. 

"Where's your horse?" said I, raising myself on my 
elbow. 

' ' Lost ! ' ' said Shaw. ' ' Where 's Deslauriers ? ' ' 

"There," I replied, pointing to a confused mass of 
blankets and buffalo-robes. 

Shaw touched them with the butt of his gun, and up 
sprang our faithful Canadian. 

"Come, Deslauriers; stir up the fire, and get me some- 
thing to eat." 

"Where's Bisonette?" asked I. 

"The Lord knows; there's nobody at Horseshoe Creek." 

Shaw had gone back to the spot where we had encamped 
two days before, and finding nothing there but the ashes of 
our fires, he had tied his horse to the tree wiiile he bathed 
in the stream. Something startled his horse, which broke 
loose, and for two hours Shaw tried in vain to catch him. 
Sunset approached, and it was twelve miles to camp. So 
he abandoned the attempt, and set out on foot to join us. 
The greater part of his perilous and solitary walk was in 
darkness. His moccasins were worn to tatters and his feet 
severely lacerated. He sat down to eat, however, the usual 
equanimity of his temper not at all disturbed by his mis- 
fortune, and my last recollection before falling asleep was 
of Shaw, seated cross-legged before the fire, smoking his 



154 THE OREGON TRAIL 

pipe. The horse was found the next morning by Henry 
Chatillon. 

When I awoke again there was a fresh damp smell in 
the air, a gray twilight involved the prairie, and above its 
eastern verge was a streak of cold red sky. I called to 
the men, and in a moment a fire was blazing brightly in the 
dim morning light, and breakfast was getting ready. We 
sat down together on the grass, to the last civilized meal 
which Ra3^mond and I were destined to enjoy for some 
time. 

' ' Now bring in the horses. ' ' 

My little mare Pauline was soon standing by the fire. 
She was a fleet, hardy, and gentle animal, christened after 
Paul Dorion, from whom I had procured her in exchange 
for Pontiac. She did not look as if equipped for a morn- 
ing p>easure-ride. In front of the black, high-bowed moun- 
tain-saddle, holsters with heavy pistols were fastened. A 
pair of saddle-bags, a blanket tightly rolled, a small parcel 
of Indian presents tied up in a buffalo skin, a leather bag 
of flour, and a smaller one of tea, were all secured behind, 
and a long trail-rope was wound round her neck. Ray- 
mond had a strong black mule, equipped in a similar man- 
ner. We crammed our powder-horns to the throat, and 
mounted. 

' ' I will meet you at Fort Laramie on the first of August, ' ' 
said I to Shaw. 

"That is," he replied, ''if we don't meet before that. I 
think I shall follow after you in a day or two." 

This in fact he attempted, and would have succeeded if 
he had not encountered obstacles against which I is resolute 
spirit was of no avail. Two days after I left him he sent 
Deslauriers to the fort with the cart and baggage, and set 
out for the mountains with Henry Chatillon; but a tre- 
mendous thunder-storm had deluged the prairie, and nearly 
obliterated not only our trail but that of the Indians them- 
selves. They followed along the base of the mountains, at 
a loss in what direction to go. They encamped there, and 
in the morning Shaw found himself poisoned by ivy in 



HUNTING INDIANS 155 

such a manner that it was impossible for him to travel. 
So they turned back reluctantly toward Fort Laramie 
and reached it early on the following morning. Shaw 
lay seriously ill for a week, and remained at the fort till 
I rejoined him some time after. 

To return to my own story. We shook hands with our 
friends, rode out upon the prairie, and, clambering the 
sandy hollows that were channelled in the sides of the hills, 
gained the high plains above. If a curse had been pro- 
nounced upon the land, it could not have worn an aspect 
more forlorn. There were abrupt broken hills, deep hol- 
lows, and wide plains; but all alike glared with an insup- 
portable whiteness under the burning sun. The country, 
as if parched by the heat, was cracked into innumerable 
fissures and ravines, that not a little impeded our progress. 
Their steep sides were white and raw, and along the bot- 
tom we several times discovered the broad tracks of the 
grizzly bear, nowhere more abundant than in this region. 
The ridges of the hills were hard as rock, and strewn with 
pebbles of flint and coarse red jasper; looking from them, 
there was nothing to relieve the desert uniformity, save 
here and there a pine-tree clinging at the edge of a ravine, 
and stretching over its rough, shaggy arms. Under the 
scorching heat, these melancholy trees diffused their pe- 
culiar resinous odor through the sultry air. There was 
something in it that recalled the pine-clad mountains of 
New England, traversed in days of health and buoyancy. 
In passing that arid waste I was goaded with a morbid 
thirst and I thought with a longing desire on the crystal 
treasure poured in such wasteful profusion from our thou- 
sand hills. Shutting my eyes, I more than half-believed 
that I heard the deep plunging and gurgling of waters 
in the crevices of the shaded rocks. 

When noon came we found a little stream, with a few 
trees and bushes; and here we rested for an hour. Then 
we traveled on, guided by the sun, until, just before sun- 
set, we reached another stream, called Bitter Cottonwood 
Creek. A thick growth of bushes and old storm-beaten 



156 THE OREGON TRAIL 

trees grew at intervals along its bank. Near the foot of 
one of the trees we flung down our saddles, and hobbling 
our horses, turned them loose to feed. The little stream 
was clear and swift, and ran musically over its w^hite sands. 
Small water-birds were splashing in the shallows, and 
filling the air with cries and flutterings. The sun was just 
sinking among gold and crimson clouds behind Mount Lara- 
mie. I lay upon a log by the margin of the water, and 
watched the restless motions of the little fish in a deep still 
nook below. Strange to say, I seemed to have gained 
strength since the morning, and almost felt a sense of re- 
turning health. 

We built our fire. Night came, and the wolves began 
to howl. One deep voice began, answered in awful re- 
sponses from hills, plains, and woods. Such sounds do not 
disturb one's sleep upon the prairie. We picketed the 
mare and the mule, and did not awake until daylight. Then 
we turned them loose, still hobbled, to feed for an hour be- 
fore starting. AYe were getting ready our breakfast when 
Raymond saw an antelope half a mile distant and said he 
would go and shoot it. 

''Your business," said I, ''is to look after the animals. 
I am too weak to do much, if any thing happens to them, 
and you must keep within sight of the camp." 

Raymond promised, and set out w^ith his rifle in his 
hand. The mare and the mule had crossed the stream, and 
were feeding among the long grass on the other side, much 
tormented by the attacks of large green-headed flies. As 
I watched them, I saw them go down into a hollow, and as 
several minutes elapsed without their reappearing, I waded 
through the stream to look after them. To my vexation 
and alarm I discovered them at a great distance, galloping 
away at full speed, Pauline in advance, with her hobbles 
broken, and the mule, still fettered, following with awkward 
leaps. I fired my rifle and shouted to recall Raymond. In 
a moment he came running through the stream, with a red 
handkerchief bound round his head. I pointed to the fugi- 
tives, and ordered him to pursue them. Muttering a 



HUNTING INDIANS 157 

*'Saere," between his teeth, he set out at full speed, still 
swinging his rifle in his hand. I walked up to the top of 
a hill, and looking away over the prairie, could distinguish 
the runaways still at a full gallop. Returning to the fire, 
I sat down at the foot of a tree. Wearily and anxiously 
hour after hour passed away. The loose bark dangling 
from the trunk behind me flapped to and fro in the wind, 
and the mosquitoes kept up their drowsy hum; but other 
than this there was no sight nor sound of life throughout 
the burning landscape. The sun rose higher and higher, 
until I knew that it must be noon. It seemed scarcely pos- 
sible that the animals could be recovered. If they were not, 
my situation was one of serious difficulty. Shaw, when I 
left him, had decided to move that morning, but whither he 
had not determined. To look for him would be a vain at- 
tempt. Fort Laramie was forty miles distant, and I could 
not walk a mile without great effort. Not then having 
learned the philosophy of yielding to disproportionate ob- 
stacles, I resolved to continue in pursuit of the Indians. 
Only one plan occurred to me ; this was, to send Ray- 
mond to the fort with an order for more horses, while 
I remained on the spot, awaiting his return, "which might 
take place within three days. But to remain stationary 
and alone for three days, in a country full of dangerous 
Indians, was not the most flattering of prospects; and, 
protracted as my Indian hunt must be by such delay, it 
was not easy to foretell its results. Revolving these mat- 
ters, I grew hungry ; and as our stock of provisions, except 
four or five pounds of flour was by this time exhausted, I 
left the camp to see what game I could find. Nothing could 
be seen except four or five large curlews wheeling over my 
head, and now and then alighting upon the prairie. I shot 
two of them, and was about returning, when a startling 
sight caught my eye. A small, dark object, like a human 
head, suddenly appeared, and vanished among the thick 
bushes along the stream below. In that country every 
stranger is a suspected enemy; and I threw forward the 
muzzle of my rifle. In a moment the bushes were violently 



158 THE OREGON TRAIL 

shaken, two heads, but not human heads, protruded, and 
to my great joy I recognized the downcast, disconsolate 
countenance of the black mule and the yellow visage of 
Pauline. Raymond came upon the mule, pale and haggard, 
complaining of a fiery pain in his chest. I took charge of 
the animals while he kneeled down by the side of the stream 
to drink. He had kept the runaways in sight as far as the 
Side Fork of Laramie Creek, a distance of more than ten 
miles; and here with great difficulty he had succeeded in 
catching them. I saw that he was unarmed, and asked 
him what he had done with his rifle. It had encumbered 
him in his pursuit, and he had dropped it on the prairie, 
thinking that he could find it on his return ; but in this he 
had failed. The loss might prove a very serious one. I was 
too much rejoiced, however, at the recovery of the animals 
to think much about it ; and having made some tea for 
him in a tin vessel which we had brought with us, I 
told him that I would give him two hours for resting 
before we set out again. He had eaten nothing that day; 
but having no appetite, he lay down immediately to sleep. 
I picketed the animals among the best grass that I could 
find, and made fires of green wood to protect them from the 
flies; then sitting down again by the tree, I watched the 
slow movements of the sun, grudging every moment that 
passed. 

The time I had mentioned expired, and I awoke Raymond. 
We saddled and set out again, but first we went in search of 
the lost rifle, and in the course of an hour were fortunate 
enough to find it. Then w^e turned westward, and moved 
over the hills and hollows at a slow pace towards the 
Black Hills. The heat no longer tormented us, for a cloud 
was before the sun. The air grew fresh and cool, the dis- 
tant mountains frowned more gloomily, there was a low 
muttering of thunder, and dense black masses of cloud rose 
heavily behind the broken peaks. At first they were 
fringed with silver by the afternoon sun ; but soon thick 
blackness overspread the sky, and the desert around us was 
wrapped in gloom. There was an awful sublimity in the 



HUNTIXG INDIANS 159 

hoarse mnrmuring of the thunder, and the sombre shadows 
that involved the mountains and the plain. The storm 
broke with a zigzag blinding flash, a terrific crash of 
thunder, and a hurricane that howled over the prairie, 
dashing floods of water against us. Raymond looked about 
him and cursed the merciless elements. There seemed no 
shelter near, but we discerned at length a deep ravine 
gashed in the level prairie, and saw half-way down its side 
an old pine-tree, whose rough horizontal boughs formed a 
sort of pent-house against the tempest. We found a prac- 
ticable passage, and, descending, fastened our animals 
to large loose stones at the bottom; then climbing up, we 
drew our blankets over our heads, and seated ourselves 
close beneath the old tree. Perhaps I was no competent 
judge of time, but it seemed to me that we were sitting 
there a full hour, while around us poured a deluge of rain, 
through which the rocks on the opposite side of the gulf 
were barely visible. The first burst of the tempest soon 
subsided, but the rain poured steadily. At length Ray- 
mond grew impatient, and scrambling out of the ravine, 
gained the level prairie above. 

''AMiat does the weather look like?" asked I, from my 
seat under the tree. . 

''It looks bad," he answered: "dark all round;" and 
again he descended and sat down by my side. Some ten 
minutes elapsed. 

' ' Go up again, ' ' said I, ' ' and take another look ; ' ' and he 
clambered up the precipice. ' ' Well, how is it ? " 

"Just the same, only I see one little bright spot over 
the top of the mountain. ' ' 

The rain by this time had begun to abate; and going 
down to the bottom of the ravine, we loosened the animals, 
who were standing up to their knees in water. Leading 
them up the rocky throat of the ravine, we reached the 
plain above. All around us was obscurity; but the bright 
spot above the mountains grew wider and ruddier, until 
at length the clouds drew apart, and a flood of sunbeams 
poured down, streaming along the precipices, and involving 



160 THE OEEGON TRAIL 

them in a thin blue haze, as soft as that which wraps the 
Apennines on an evening in spring. Rapidly the clouds 
were broken and scattered, like routed legions of evil 
spirits. The plain lay basking in sunbeams around us; a 
rainbow arched the desert from north to south, and far in 
front a line of woods seemed inviting us to refreshment 
and repose. When we reached them, they were glisten- 
ing with prismatic dew-drops, and enlivened by the songs 
and flutterings of birds. Strange winged insects, benumbed 
by the rain, were clinging to the leaves and the bark of 
the trees. 

Raymond kindled a fire with great diiSculty. The 
animals turned eagerly to feed on the soft rich grass, while 
I, wrapping myself in my blanket, lay down and gazed on 
the evening landscape. The mountains, whose stern 
features had lowered upon us so gloomily, seemed lighted 
up with a benignant smile, and the green waving undula- 
tions of the plain were gladdened with the bright sunshine. 
"Wet, ill, and wearied as I was, my heart grew lighter at 
the view, and I drew from it an augury of good. 

When morning came, Raymond awoke, coughing vio- 
lently, though I had apparently received no injury. We 
mounted, crossed the little stream, pushed through the 
trees, and began our journey over the plain beyond. And 
now, as we rode slowly along, we looked anxiously on 
every hand for traces of the Indians, not doubting that 
the village had passed somewhere in that vicinity; but 
the scanty shrivelled grass was not more than three or four 
inches high, and the ground was so hard that a host might 
have marched over it and left scarcely a trace of its 
passage. Up hill and down hill, and clambering through 
ravines, we continued our journey. As we were skirting 
the foot of a hill, I saAV Raymond, who was some rods in 
advance, suddenly jerk the reins of his mule. Sliding from 
his seat, and running in a crouching posture up a hollow, 
he disappeared ; then in an instant I heard the sharp crack 
of his rifle. A wounded antelope came running on three 
legs over the hill. I lashed Pauline and made after him. 



HUNTING INDIANS 161 

My fleet little mare soon brought me by his side, and, after 
leaping and bounding for a few moments in vain, he stood 
still, as if despairing of escape. His glistening eyes turned 
up towards my face with so piteous a look, that it was 
with feelings of infinite comi^unction that I shot him 
through the head with a pistol. Raymond skinned and 
cut him up, and we hung the fore-quarters to our saddles, 
much rejoiced that our exhausted stock of provisions was 
renewed in such good time. 

Gaining the top of a hill, we could see along the cloudy 
verge of the prairie before us the lines of trees and 
shadowy groves, that marked the course of Laramie Creek. 
Before noon we reached its banks, and began anxiously to 
search them for footprints of the Indians. We followed 
the stream for several miles, now on the shore and now 
wading in the water, scrutinizing every sand-bar and 
every muddy bank. So long was the search, that we began 
to fear that we had left the trail undiscovered behind us. 
At length I heard Raymond shouting, and saw him jump 
from his mule to examine some object under the shelving 
bank. I rode up to his side. It was the impression of an 
Indian moccasin. Encouraged by this, we continued our 
search till at last some appearances on a soft surface of 
earth not far from the shore attracted my eye ; and going 
to examine them I found half a dozen tracks, some made by 
men and some by children. Just then Raymond observed 
across the stream the mouth of a brook, entering it from 
the south. He forded the water, rode in at the opening, 
and in a moment I heard him shouting again ; so I passed 
over and joined him. The brook had a broad sandy bed, 
along which the water trickled in a scanty stream; and 
on either bank the bushes were so close that the view was 
completely intercepted. I found Raymond stooping over 
the footprints of three or four horses. Proceeding, we 
found those of a man, then those of a child, then those of 
more horses; till at last the bushes on each bank were 
beaten down and broken, and the sand ploughed up with 
a multitude of footsteps, and scored across with the furrows 



162 THE OREGON TRAIL 

made by the lodge-poles that had been dragged through. 
It was now certain that we had found the trail. I pushed 
through the bushes, and at a little distance on the prairie 
beyond found the ashes of a hundred and fifty lodge-fires, 
with bones and pieces of buffalo-robes scattered about, and 
the pickets to which horses had been tied, still standing in 
the ground. Elated by our success, we selected a con- 
venient tree, and, turning the animals loose, prepared to 
make a meal from the haunch of the antelope. 

Hardship and exposure had improved me wonderfully. 
I had gained both health and strength since leaving La 
Bonte's camp. Raymond and I made a hearty meal to- 
gether, in high spirits ; for we rashly presumed that having 
found one end of the trail we should have little diffi- 
culty in reaching the other. But we found that our ill- 
luck had not ceased to follow us. As I was saddling 
Pauline, I saw that her eye was dull as lead, and the 
hue of her yellow coat visibly darkened. I placed my 
foot in the stirrup to mount, when she staggered and 
fell fiat on her side. Gaining her feet with an effort, she 
stood by the fire with a drooping head. Whether she had 
been bitten by a snake, or poisoned by some noxious plant, 
or attacked by a sudden disorder, it was hard to say ; but 
at all events, her sickness was sufficiently ill-timed and un- 
fortunate. I succeeded in a second attempt to mount her, 
and with a slow pace we moved forward on the trail of the 
Indians. It led us up a hill and over a dreary plain ; and 
here, to our great mortification, the traces ahnost disap- 
peared, for the ground was hard as adamant; and if its 
flinty surface had ever retained the dint of a hoof, the 
marks had been washed away by the deluge of yesterday. 
An Indian village, in its disorderly march, is scattered over 
the prairie often to the width of half a mile; so that its 
trail is nowhere clearly marked, and the task of follow- 
ing it is made doubly wearisome and difficult. By good 
fortune, many large ant-hills, a yard or more in diameter, 
were scattered over the plain, and these were frequently 
broken by the footprints of men and horses, and marked 



HUNTING INDIANS 163 

by traces of the lodge-poles. The succulent leaves of the 
prickly-pear, also bruised from the same causes, helped 
to guide US; so, inch by inch, we moved along. Often 
we lost the trail altogether, and then would recover it 
again; but late in the afternoon w^e were totally at fault. 
We stood alone, without a clew to guide us. The broken 
plain expanded for league after league around us, and in 
front the long dark ridge of mountains was stretching 
from north to south. Mount Laramie, a little on our 
right, towered high above the rest, and from a dark valley 
just beyond one of its lower declivities, we discerned vol- 
umes of white smoke slowly rolling up into the clear air. 

^'I think," said Raymond, "some Indians must be there. 
Perhaps we had better go." But this plan was not rashly 
to be adopted, and we determined still to continue our 
search after the lost trail. Our good stars prompted us 
to this decision, for we afterward had reason to believe, 
from information given us by the Indians, that the smoke 
was raised as a decoy by a Crow war-party. 

Evening was coming on, and there was no wood or water 
nearer than the foot of the mountains. So thither we 
turned, directing our course towards the point where 
Laramie Creek issues upon the prairie. When we reached 
it, the bare tops of the mountains were still brightened with 
sunshine. The little river was breaking, with an angry 
current from its dark prison. There was something in 
the near vicinity of the mountains and in the loud surging 
of the rapids, wonderfully cheering and exhilarating. 
There was a grass-plot by the river bank, surrounded by 
low ridges, which would effectually screen us and our fire 
from the sight of wandering Indians. Here, among the 
grass, I observed numerous circles of large stones, traces 
of a Dahcotah winter encampment. We lay down, and did 
not awake till the sun was up. A large rock projected 
from the shore, and behind it the deep water was slowly 
eddying round and round. The temptation was irre- 
sistible. I threw off my clothes, leaped in, suffered myself 
to be borne once round with the current, and then, seizing 



164 THE OREGON TRAIL 

the strong root of a water-plant, drew myself to the shore. 
The effect was so refreshing, that I mistook it for return- 
ing health. But scarcely were we mounted and on our 
way, before the momentary glow passed. Again I hung 
as usual in my seat, scarcely able to hold myself erect. 

"Look yonder," said Raymond; ''you see that big 
hollow there ; the Indians must have gone that way, if they 
went anywhere about here." 

We reached the gap, which was like a deep notch cut 
into the mountain-ridge, and here we soon saw an ant- 
hill furrowed with the mark of a lodge-pole. This was 
quite enough; there could be no doubt now. As w^e rode 
on, the opening growing narrower, the Indians had been 
compelled to march in closer order, and the traces be- 
came numerous and distinct. The gap terminated in a 
rocky gateway, leading into a rough passage upward, be- 
tween two precipitous mountains. Here grass and weeds 
were bruised to fragments by the throng that had passed 
through. We moved slowly over the rocks, up the passage ; 
and in this toilsome manner advanced for an hour or two, 
bare precipices, hundreds of feet high, shooting up on 
either hand. Raymond, with his hardy mule, was a few 
rods before me, when we came to the foot of an ascent 
steeper than the rest, and which I trusted might prove the 
highest point of the defile. Pauline strained upward for 
a few yards, moaning and stumbling, and then came to 
a dead stop, unable to proceed further. I dismounted, 
and attempted to lead her ; but my own exhausted strength 
soon gave out; so I loosened the trail-rope from her neck, 
and tying it around my arm, crawled up on my hands and 
knees. I gained the top, totally exhausted, the sweat-drops 
trickling from my forehead. Pauline stood like a statue 
by my side, her shadow falling upon the scorching rock; 
and in this shade, for there was no other, I lay for some 
time, scarcely able to move a limb. All around, the black 
crags, sharp as needles at the top, stood glowing in the sun, 
without tree or bush or blade of grass to cover their pre- 
cipitous sides. The whole scene seemed parched with a 



HUNTING INDIANS 165 

pitiless, insufferable heat. After a while I could mount 
again, and we moved on, descending the defile on its 
western side. 

Raymond 's saddle-girth slipped ; and while I proceeded 
he stopped to repair the mischief. I came to the top of 
a little declivity, where a welcome sight greeted my eye; 
a nook of fresh green grass nestled among the cliffy 
sunny clumps of bushes on one side, and shaggy old pine- 
trees leaning from the rocks on the other. A shriH,. 
familiar voice saluted me, and recalled me to days of boy- 
hood; that of the insect called the "locust" by New 
England schoolboys, which was clinging among the heated 
boughs of the old pine-trees. Then, too, as I passed the 
bushes, the low sound of falling water reached my ear. 
Pauline turned of her own accord, and pushing through 
the boughs, we found a black rock, overarched by the cooL 
green canopy. An icy stream was pouring from its side 
into a wide basin of white sand, whence it had no visible 
outlet, but filtered through into the soil below. While I 
filled a tin cup at the spring, Pauline was eagerly plung- 
ing her head deep into the pool. Other visitors had been 
there before us. All around in the soft soil were the 
footprints of elk, deer, and the Eocky Mountain sheep; 
and the grizzly bear too had left the recent prints of his 
broad foot, with its frightful array of claws. Among 
these mountains was his home. 

Soon after leaving the spring we found a little grassy 
plain, encircled by the mountains, and marked, to our 
great joy, with all the traces of an Indian camp. Ray- 
mond's practised eye detected certain signs by which he 
recognized the spot where Reynal's lodge had been pitched 
and his horses picketed. 

In half an hour from this we were clear of the mountains. 
There was a plain before us, totally barren and thickly 
peopled in many parts with prairie-dogs, who sat at the 
mouths of their burrows and yelped at us as we passed. 
The plain, as we thought, was about six miles wide ; but it 
cost us two hours to cross it. Then another mountain- 



166 THE OREGON TRAIL 

range rose before us grander and wilder than that we had 
passed. Out of the thick shrubbery that clothed the steeps 
for a thousand feet shot up black crags, all leaning one 
way, and shattered by storms and thunder into grim and 
threatening shapes. As we entered a narrow passage on 
the trail of the Indians, they impended frightfully above 
our heads. 

Our course was through dense woods, in the shade and 
sunlight of overhanging boughs. Winding from side to 
/side of the passage, to avoid its obstructions, we could 
see at intervals, through the foliage, the awful forms of 
the gigantic cliffs, that seemed to hem us in on the right 
and on the left, before and behind. 

In an open space, fenced in by high rocks, stood two 
Indian forts, of a square form, rudely built of sticks and 
logs. They were somewhat ruinous, having probably been 
■constructed the year before. Each might have contained 
;about twenty men. Perhaps in this gloomy spot some 
party had been beset by enemies, and those scowling rocks 
and blasted trees might not long since have looked down 
on a conflict, unchronicled and unknown. Yet if any 
traces of bloodshed remained they w^ere hidden by the 
bushes and tall rank weeds. 

Gradually the mountains drew apart, and the passage 
expanded into a plain, where again we found traces of an 
Indian encampment. There were trees and bushes just 
before us, and we stopped here for an hour's rest and re- 
freshment. When we had finished our meal, Raymond 
struck fire, and, lighting his pipe, sat down at the foot of 
a tree to smoke. For some time I observed him puffing 
away with a face of unusual solemnit}''. Then slowly 
taking the pipe from his lips, he looked up and remarked 
that Ave had better not go any farther. 

^' Why not?" asked I. 

He said that the country was become very dangerous, 
that we were entering the range of the Snakes, Arapahoes,'^ 

1 A tribe of Indians living on the head waters of the Platte and 
Arkansas rivers, but ranging also further north. 



HUNTING INDIANS 167 

and Gros-ventre Blackfeet, and that if any of their wan- 
dering parties should meet ns, it would cost us our lives; 
but he added with blunt fidelity, that he would go any- 
where I wished. I told him to bring up the animals, and 
mounting them we proceeded again. I confess that, as 
we moved forward, the prospect seemed but a doubtful one. 
I would have given the world for my ordinary elasticity 
of body and mind, and for a horse of such strength and 
spirit as the journey required. 

Closer and closer the rocks gathered round us, growing 
taller and steeper, and pressing more and more upon our 
path. AYe entered at length a defile which I never have 
seen rivalled. The mountain was cracked from top to 
bottom, and we were creeping along the bottom of the 
fissure, in dampness and gloom, with the clink of hoofs 
on the loose shingly rocks, and the hoarse muttering of 
a petulant brook w^hich kept us company. Sometimes 
the water, foaming among the stones, overspread the 
whole narrow passage ; sometimes, withdrawing to one side, 
it gave us room to pass dry-shod. Looking up, we could 
see a narrow ribbon of bright blue sky between the dark 
edges of the opposing cliffs. This did not last long. The 
passage soon widened, and sunbeams found their way 
down, flashing upon the black waters. The defile would 
spread to many rods in width; bushes, trees, and flowers 
would spring by the side of the brook; the cliffs would be 
feathered with shrubbery, that clung in every crevice, and 
fringed with trees, that grew along their sunny edges. 
Then we would be moving again in darkness. The passage 
seemed about four miles long, and before we reached the 
end of it, the unshod hoofs of our animals were broken, 
and their legs cut by the sharp stones. Issuing from the 
mountain we found another plain. All around it stood a 
circle of precipices, that seemed the impersonation of 
Silence and Solitude. Here again the Indians had en- 
camped, as well they might, after passing with their women, 
children, and horses, through the gulf behind us. In one 



168 THE OREGON TRAIL 

day we had made a journey which it had cost them three to 
accomplish. 

The only outlet to this amphitheatre lay over a hill 
some two hundred feet high, up which we moved with 
difficulty. Looking from l^ie top, we saw that at last we 
were free of the mountains. The prairie spread before 
us, but so wild and brol^en that the view was everywhere 
obstructed. Far on our left one tall hill swelled up 
against the sky, on the smooth, pale-green surface of which 
four slowly moving black specks were discernible. They 
were evidently buffalo, and we hailed the sight as a good 
augury; for where the buffalo were, there the Indians 
would probably be found. We hoped on that very night 
to reach the village. We were anxious to do so for a 
double reason, wishing to bring our journey to an end, and 
knowing moreover that though to enter the village in 
broad daylight would be perfectly safe, yet to encamp in its 
vicinity would be dangerous. But as we rode on, the 
sun was sinking, and soon was within half an hour of 
the horizon. We ascended a hill and looked about us for 
a spot for our encampment. The prairie was like a tur- 
bulent ocean, suddenly congealed when its waves were at 
the highest, and it lay half in light and half in shadow, 
as the rich sunshine, yellow as gold, was pouring over it. 
The rough bushes of the wild sage were growing every- 
where, its dull pale-green overspreading hill and hollow. 
Yet a little way before us, a bright verdant line of grass 
was winding along the plain, and here and there through- 
out its course were glistening pools of water. We went 
down to it, kindled a fire, and turned our horses loose to 
feed. It was a little trickling brook, that for some yards 
on either side turned the barren prairie into fertility, and 
here and there it spread into deep pools, where the beavers 
had dammed it up. 

We placed our last remaining piece of antelope before 
a scanty fire, mournfull}^ retieeting on our exhausted stock 
of provisions. Just then a large gray hare, peculiar to 
these prairies, came jumping along, and seated himself 



HUNTING INDIANS 169 

within fifty yards to look at us. I thoughtlessly raised 
my rifle to shoot him, but Raymond called out to me not 
to fire for fear the report should reach the ears of the 
Indians. That night for the first time we considered that 
the danger to which we were exposed was of a somewhat 
serious character ; and to those who are unacquainted with 
Indians, it may seem strange that our chief apprehensions 
arose from the supposed proximity of the people whom we 
intended to visit. Had any straggling party of these 
faithful friends caught sight of us from the hill-top, they 
would probably have returned in the night to plunder us 
of our horses, and perhaps of our scalps. But I presume 
that neither Raymond nor I thought twice of the matter 
that evening. 

For eight hours we pillowed on our saddles, and lay in- 
sensible as logs, Pauline's yellow head was stretched 
over me when I awoke. I got up and examined her. Her 
feet were bruised and swollen by the accidents of yester- 
day, but her eye was brighter, her motions livelier, and 
her mysterious malady had visibly abated. We moved on, 
hoping within an hour to come in sight of the Indian 
village; but again disappointment awaited us. The trail 
disappeared upon a hard and stony plain. Raymond and 
I rode from side to side, scrutinizing every yard of ground, 
until at length I found traces of the lodge-poles, by the 
side of a ridge of rocks. We began again to follow 
them. 

"What is that black spot out there on the prairie?" 

"It looks like a dead buffalo," answered Raymond. 

W"e rode to it, and found it to be the huge carcass of a 
bull killed by the hunters as they had passed. Tangled 
hair and scraps of hide were scattered all around, for 
the wolves had made merry over it, and hollowed out the 
entire carcass. It was covered with myriads of large black 
crickets, and from its appearance must have lain there 
four or five days. The sight was a disheartening one, and 
I observed to Raymond that the Indians might still be 
fifty or sixty miles away. But he shook his head, and 



170 THE OREGON TR^IL 

replied that they dared not go so far for fear of their 
enemies, the Snakes. 

Soon after this we lost the trail again, and ascended a 
neighboring ridge, totally at a loss. Before us lay a plain 
perfectly flat, spreading on the right and left, without ap- 
parent limit, and bounded in front by a long broken line 
of hills, ten or twelve miles distant. All was open and ex- 
posed to view, yet not a buffalo nor an Indian was visible. 

^'Do you see that?" said Raymond: ''now we had better 
turn round." 

But as Raymond's bourgeois thought otherwise, we de- 
scended the hill and began to cross the plain. We had 
come so far that neither Pauline's limbs nor my own 
could carry me back to Fort Laramie. I considered that 
the lines of expediency and inclination tallied exactly, 
and that the most prudent course was to keep forward. 
The ground immediately around us was thickly strewn 
with the skulls and bones of buffalo, for here a year or 
two before the Indians had made a "surround;" yet no 
living game presented itself. At length an antelope sprang 
up and gazed at us. We fired together, and both missed, 
although the animal stood, a fair mark, within eighty 
yards. This ill-success might perhaps be charged to our 
own eagerness, for by this time we had no provisions left 
€xcept a little flour. We could see several pools of water, 
glistening in the distance. As we approached, wolves and 
antelopes bounded away through the tall grass, and 
flocks of large white plover flew screaming over their 
surface. Having failed of the antelope, Raymond tried 
his hand at the birds, with the same ill-success. The water 
also disappointed us. Its margin was so beaten up by the 
crowd of buffalo that our timorous animals were afraid to 
approach. So we turned away and moved towards the 
hills. The rank grass, where it was not trampled down by 
the buffalo, fairly swept our horses' necks. 

Again we found the same execrable barren prairie 
offering no clew by which to guide our way. As we drew 
near the hills, an opening appeared, through which the 



HUNTIXG INDIANS 171 

Indians must have gone if they had passed that way at 
all. Slowly we began to ascend it. I felt the most dreary 
forebodings of ill-success, when on looking round I could 
discover neither dent of hoof, nor footprint, nor trace of 
lodge-pole, though the passage was encumbered by the 
skulls of buffalo. We heard thunder muttering; a storm 
was coming on. 

As we gained the top of the gap, the prospect beyond 
began to disclose itself. First, we saw a long dark line 
of ragged clouds upon the horizon, while above them rose 
the peaks of the Medicine-Bow, the vanguard of the 
Rocky Mountains; then little by little the plain came 
into view, a vast green uniformity, forlorn and tenantless, 
though Laramie Creek glistened in a waving line over its 
surface, without a bush or a tree upon its banks. As yet, 
the round projecting shoulder of a hill intercepted a part 
of the view. I rode in advance, when suddenly I could 
distinguish a few dark spots on the prairie, along the bank 
of the stream. 

''Buffalo!" said I. 

"Horses!" exclaimed Raymond with an oath, lashing 
his mule forward as he spoke. More and more of the plain 
disclosed itself, and more and more horses appeared, 
scattered along the river bank, or feeding in bands over 
the prairie. Then, standing in a circle by the stream, 
swarming with their savage inhabitants, we saw before us, 
the tall lodges of the Ogillallah. Never did the heart of 
wanderer more gladden at the sight of home than did 
mine at the sight of these wild habitations. 



CHAPTER XIV 

THE OGILLALLAH VILLAGE 

This narrative is hardly the place for portraying the 
mental features of the Indians. The same picture, slightly 
changed in shade and coloring, would serve with very few 
exceptions for all the tribes north of the Mexican terri- 
tories. But with this similarity in their modes of thought, 
the tribes of the lake and ocean shores, of the forests and 
of the plains, differ greatly in their manner of life. Hav- 
ing been domesticated for several weeks among one of the 
wildest of the hordes that roam over the remote prairies, 
I had extraordinary opportunities of observing them, and 
flatter myself that a picture of the scenes that passed daily 
before my eyes may not be devoid of interest. These 
people were thorough savages. Neither their manners nor 
their ideas were in the least degree modified by contact 
with civilization. They knew nothing of the power and 
real character of the white men, and their children would 
scream in terror at the sight of me. Their religion, super- 
stitions, and prejudices were the same handed down to 
them from immemorial time. Thej^ fought with the weap- 
ons that their fathers fought with, and wore the same 
garments of skins. 

Great changes are at hand in that region. With the 
stream of emigration to Oregon and California, the buffalo 
will dwindle away, and the large wandering communities 
who depend on them for support must be broken and 
scattered. The Indians will soon be corrupted by the ex- 
ample of the whites, debased by whiskey, and overawed by 
military posts ; so that within a few years the traveler may 
pass in tolerable security through their country. Its dan- 
ger and its charm will have disappeared together. 

172 



THE OGILLALLAH VILLAGE 173 

As soon as Raymond and I discovered the village from 
the gap in the hills, we were seen in our turn; keen eyes 
were constantly on the watch. As w^e rode down upon the 
plain, the side of the village nearest us was darkened with 
a crowd of naked figures. Several men came forward to 
meet us. I could distinguish among them the green 
blanket of the Frenchman Reynal. When we came up the 
ceremony of shaking hands had to be gone through in due 
form, and then all were eager to know what had become 
of the rest of my party. I satisfied them on this point, and 
we all moved together towards the village. 

'* You've missed it," said Eeynal; "if you'd been here 
day before yesterday, you'd have found the whole prairie 
over yonder black with buffalo as far as you could see. 
There were no cows, though ; nothing but bulls. We made 
a 'surround' every day till yesterday. See the village 
there; don't that look like good living?" 

In fact I could see, even at that distance, long cords 
stretched from lodge to lodge, over which the meat, cut 
by the squaws into thin sheets, was hanging to dry in the 
sun. I noticed too that the village was somewhat smaller 
than when I had last seen it, and I asked Reynal the 
cause. He said that old Le Borgne had felt too weak to 
pass over the mountains, and so had remained behind with 
all his relations, including Mahto-Tatonka and his brothers. 
The Whirlwind too had been unwilling to come so far, 
because, as Reynal said, he was afraid. Only half a 
dozen lodges had adhered to him, the main body of the 
village setting their chief 's authority at naught, and taking 
the course most agreeable to their inclinations. 

"What chiefs are there in the village now?" asked I. 

"Well," said Reynal, "there's old Red-Water, and the 
Eagle-Feather, and the Big Crow, and the Mad Wolf, and 
the Panther, and the White Shield, and — what's his 
name? — the half-breed Shienne. " 

By this time we w^re close to the village, and I ob- 
served that while the greater part of the lodges were very 
large and neat in their appearance, there was at one side 



174 THE OREGON TRAIL 

a cluster of squalid, miserable huts. I looked towards: 
them, and made some remark about their wretched ap- 
pearance. But I was touching upon delicate ground. 

''My squaw's relations live in those lodges," said Key- 
nal, very warmly; "and there isn't a better set in the 
whole village." 

"Are there any chiefs among them?" 

"Chiefs?" said Reynal; "yes, plenty!" 

"What are their names?" 

"Their names? Why, there's the Arrow-Head. If he 
isn't a chief he ought to be one. And there's the Hail- 
Storm. He's nothing but a boy, to be sure ; but he's bound 
to be a chief one of these days." 

Just then Ave passed between two of the lodges, and 
entered the great area of the village. Superb, naked figures 
stood silently gazing on us. 

"Where's the Bad Wound's lodge?" said I to Reynal. 

"There you've missed it again! The Bad Wound is 
away with The Whirlwind. If you could have found him 
here, and gone to live in his lodge, he would have treated 
you better than any man in the village. But there's the 
Big Crow's lodge yonder, next to old Red-Water's. He's 
a good Indian for the whites, and I advise you to go and 
live with him." 

"Are there many squaws and children in his lodge?" 
said I. 

"No; only one squaw and two or three children. He 
keeps the rest in a separate lodge by themselves." 

So, still followed by a crowd of Indians, Raymond and 
I rode up to the entrance of the Big Crow's lodge. A 
squaw came out immediately and took our horses. I put 
aside the leather flap that covered the low opening, and 
stooping, entered the Big Crow's dwelling. There I could 
see the chief in the dim light, seated at one side, on a pile 
of buffalo-robes. He greeted me with a guttural "How, 
cola!" I requested Reynal to tell him that Raymond 
and I were come to live with him. The Big Crow gave 



THE OGILLALLAH VILLAGE 175 

another low exclamation. If the reader thinks that we 
were intruding, I beg him to observe that every Indian in 
the village would have deemed himself honored that white 
men should give such preference to his hospitality. 

The squaw spread a buffalo-robe for us in the guest's 
place at the head of the lodge. Our saddles were brought 
in, and scarcely were w^e seated upon them before the place 
was thronged with Indians, crowding in to see us. The 
Big Crow produced his pipe and filled it with the mixture 
of tobacco and shongsasha, or red willow bark. Round 
and round it passed, and a lively conversation went for- 
ward. Meanwhile a squaw placed before the two guests a 
wooden bowl of boiled buft'alo-meat ; but unhappily this 
was not the only banquet destined to be inflicted on us. 
One after another, boys and young squaws thrust their 
heads in at the opening, to invite us to various feasts in 
different parts of the village. For half an hour or more 
we w^ere actively engaged in passing from lodge to lodge, 
tasting in each of the bowl of meat set before us, and 
inhaling a whiff or two from our entertainer's pipe. A 
thunder-storm that had been threatening for some time 
now began in good earnest. We crossed over to Reynal's 
lodge, though it hardly deserved the name, for it consisted 
only of a few old buffalo-robes, supported on poles, and 
was quite open on one side. Here we sat down, and the 
Indians gathered around us. 

''What is it," said I, "that makes the thunder?" 

''It's my belief," said Reynal, "that it's a big stone 
rolling over the sky." 

"Very likely," I replied; "but I want to know what the 
Indians think about it." 

So he interpreted my question, which produced some 
debate. There was a difference of opinion. At last old 
Mene-Seela, or Eed-AVater, who sat by himself at one side, 
looked up with his withered face, and said he had always 
known what the thunder was. It was a great black bird; 
and once he had seen it, in a dream, swooping down from 



176 THE OREGON TRAIL 

the Black Hills, with its loud roaring wings ; and when it 
flapped them over a lake, they struck lightning from the 
water. 

"The thunder is bad," said another old man, who sat 
muffled in his buffalo-robe; "he killed my brother last 
summer." 

Reynal, at my request, asked for an explanation; but 
the old man remained doggedly silent, and would not look 
up. Some time after, I learned how the accident occurred. 
The man who was killed belonged to an association which, 
among other mystic functions, claimed the exclusive power 
and privilege of fighting the thunder. Whenever a storm 
which they wished to avert was threatening, the thunder- 
fighters w^ould take their bows and arrows, their guns, their 
magic drum, and a sort of whistle, made out of the wing- 
bone of the war-eagle, and, thus equipped, run out and fire 
at the rising cloud, whooping, yelling, whistling, and beat- 
ing their drum, to frighten it down again. One after- 
noon, a heavy black cloud was coming up, and they re- 
paired to the top of a hill, where they brought all their 
magic artillery into play against it. But the undaunted 
thunder, refusing to be terrified, darted out a bright flash, 
which struck one of the party dead as he was in the very 
act of shaking his long iron-pointed lance against it. The 
rest scattered and ran yelling in an ecstasy of superstitious 
terror back to their lodges. 

The lodge of my host Kongra-Tonga, or the Big Crow, 
presented a picturesque spectacle that evening. A score 
or more of Indians were seated around it in a circle, their 
dark naked forms just visible by the dull light of the 
smouldering fire in the center. The pipe glowed brightly 
in the gloom as it passed from hand to hand. Then a 
squaw would drop a piece of buffalo-fat on the dull embers. 
Instantly a bright flame would leap up, darting its light 
to the very apex of the tall conical structure, where the 
tops of the slender poles that supported the covering of 
hide were gathered together. It gilded the features of the 
Indians, as with animated gestures they sat around it, tell- 



THE OGILLALLAH VILLAGE 177 

ing their endless stories of war and hunting. It displayed 
rude garments of skins that hung around the lodge; the 
bow, quiver, and lance, suspended over the resting-place of 
the chief, and the rifles and powder-horns of the two white 
guests. For a moment all would be bright as day; then 
the flames would die away; fltful flashes from the embers 
would illumine the lodge, and then leave it in darkness. 
Then the light would wholly fade, and the lodge and all 
wdthin it be involved again in obscurity. 

As I left the lodge next morning, I was saluted by 
howling and yelping all around the village, and half its 
canine population rushed forth to the attaj3k. Being as 
cowardly as they were clamorous, they kept jumping 
around me at the distance of a few yards, only one little 
cur, about ten inches long, having spirit enough to make 
a direct assault. He dashed valiantly at the leather tassel 
which in the Dahcotah fashion was trailing behind the 
heel of my moccasin, and kept his hold, growling and 
snarling all the while, though every step I made almost 
jerked him over on his back. As I knew that the eyes 
of the w^hole village were on the watch to see if I showed 
any sign of fear, I walked forward without looking to the 
right or left, surrounded w^ierever I went by this magic 
circle of dogs. AVhen I came to Keynal's lodge I sat 
down by it, on w^hich the dogs dispersed growling to their 
respective quarters. Only one large white one remained, 
running about before me and showing his teeth. I called 
him, but he only growled the more. I looked at him well. 
He was fat and sleek; just such a dog as I wanted. ''My 
friend," thought I, "you shall pay for this! I will have 
you eaten this very morning ! ' ' 

I intended that day to give the Indians a feast, by way 
of conveying a favorable impression of my character and 
dignity; and a white dog is the dish which the customs of 
the Dahcotah prescribe for all occasions of formality and 
importance. I consulted Reynal : he soon discovered that 
an old woman in the next lodge was owner of the white 
dog. I took a gaudy cotton handkerchief, and, laying it 



178 THE OREGON TRAIL 

on the ground, arranged some vermilion, beads, and other 
trinkets upon it. Then the old squaw was summoned. I 
pointed to the dog and to the handkerchief. She gave a 
scream of delight, snatched up the prize, and vanished 
with it into her lodge. For a few more trifles, I engaged 
the services of two other squaws, each of whom took the 
white dog by one of his paws, and led him away behind the 
lodges. Having killed him they threw him into a fire to 
singe; then chopped him up and put him into two large 
kettles to boil. Meanwhile I told Raymond to fry in 
buffalo fat what little flour we had left, and also to make 
a kettle of tea as an additional item of the repast. 

The Big Crow's squaw was briskly at work sweeping 
out the lodge for the approaching festivity. I confided 
to my host himself the task of inviting the guests, think- 
ing that I might thereby shift from my own shoulders the 
odium of neglect and oversight. 

When feasting is in question, one hour of the day serves 
an Indian as well as another. My entertainment came off 
at about eleven o'clock. At that hour, Reynal and Ray- 
mond walked across the area of the village, to the admi- 
ration of the inhabitants, carrying the two kettles of dog 
meat slung on a pole between them. These they placed 
in the center of the lodge, and then went back for the 
bread and the tea. Meanwhile I had put on a pair of 
brilliant moccasins, and substituted for my old buck-skin 
frock a coat which I had brought with me in view of such 
public occasions. I also made careful use of the razor, 
an operation which no man will neglect who desires to 
gain the good opinion of Indians. Thus attired, I seated 
myself between Reynal and Raymond at the head of the 
lodge. Only a few minutes elapsed before all the guests 
had come in and were seated on the ground, w^edged to- 
gether in a close circle. Each brought with him a wooden 
bowl to hold his share of the repast. When all were 
assembled, two of the officials, called ''soldiers" by the 
white m.en, came forward with ladles made of the horn 



THE OOILLALLAH VILLAGE 179 

of the Rocky Mountain sheep, and began to distribute the 
feast, assigning a double share to the old men and chiefs. 
The dog vanished with astonishing celerity, and each 
guest turned his dish bottom upward to show that all was 
gone. Then the bread was distributed in its turn, and 
finally the tea. As the "soldiers" poured it out into the 
same wooden bowls that had served for the substantial 
part of the meal, I thought it had a particularly curious 
and uninviting color. 

"Oh," said Reynal, "there was not tea enough, so I 
stirred some soot in the kettle, to make it look strong." 

Fortunately an Indian's palate is not very discriminat- 
ing. The tea was well sweetened, and that was all they 
cared for. 

Now, the former part of the entertainment being con- 
cluded, the time for speech-making was come. The Big 
Crow produced a tiat piece of wood on which he cut up 
tobacco and shongsasha, and mixed them in due propor- 
tions. The pipes were filled and passed from hand to 
hand around the company. Then I began my speech, each 
sentence being interpreted by Reynal as I went on, and 
echoed by the whole audience with the usual exclamations- 
of assent and approval. As nearly as I can recollect, it 
was as follows: — 

"I had come," I told them, "from a country so far 
distant, that at the rate they travel, they could not reach 
it in a year." 

"How! how!" 

"There the Meneaska were more numerous than the 
blades of grass on the prairie. The squaws were far 
more beautiful than any they had ever seen, and all the 
men were brave warriors." 

"How! how! how!" 

Here I was assailed by twinges of conscience, but I 
recovered myself and began again. 

"While I was living in the Meneaska lodges, I had 
heard of the Ogillallah, how great and brave a nation 



180 THE OREGON TRAIL 

they were, how they loved the whites, and how well they 
could hunt the bviffalo and strike their enemies. I 
resolved to come and see if all that I heard was true." 

"How! how! how! how!" 

"As I had come on horseback through the mountains, 
I had been able to bring them only a very few presents. ' ' 

"How!" 

"But I had enough tobacco to give them all a small 
piece. They might smoke it and see how much better it 
was than the tobacco which they got from the traders." 

"How! how! how!" 

"I had plenty of powder, lead, knives, and tobacco at 
Fort Laramie. These I was anxious to give them, and if 
any of them should come to the fort before I went away, 
I w^ould make them handsome presents. ' ' 

"How! how! how! how!" 

Raymond then cut up and distributed among them two 
or three pounds of tobacco, and old Mene-Seela began to 
make a reply. It was long, but the following was the 
pith of it : 

"He had always loved the whites. They were the wisest 
people on earth. He believed they could do every thing, 
and he was always glad when any of them came to live in 
the Ogillallah lodges. It was true I had not made them 
many presents, but the reason of it was plain. It was 
clear that I liked them, or I never should have come so far 
to find their village." 

Several other speeches of similar import followed, and 
then this more serious matter being disposed of, there was 
an interval of smoking, laughing, and conversation. Old 
Mene-Seela suddenly interrupted it with a loud voice : — 

"Now is a good time," he said, "when all the old men 
and chiefs are here together, to decide what the people 
shall do. We came over the mountains to make our lodges 
for next year. Our old ones are good for nothing, they 
are rotten and worn out. But we have been disappointed. 
We have killed buffalo bulls enough, but we have found 
no herds of cows, and the skins of bulls are too thick and 



THE OGILLALLAH VILLAGE 181 

heavy for our squaws to make lodges of. There must be 
plenty of cows about the Medicine Bow Mountain. We 
ought to go there. To be sure it is farther westward than 
we have ever been before, and perhaps the Snakes will 
attack us, for those hunting grounds belong to them. But 
we must have new lodges at any rate; our old ones will 
not serve for another year. We ought not to be afraid 
of the Snakes. Our warriors are brave, and they are all 
ready for war. Besides, we have three white men with 
their rifles to help us. ' ' 

This speech produced a good deal of debate. As Rey- 
nal did not interpret what was said, I could only judge 
of the meaning by the features and gestures of the speak- 
ers. At the end of it, however, the greater number seemed 
to have fallen in with Mene-Seela's opinion. A short 
silence followed, and then the old man struck up a dis- 
cordant chant, which I was told was a song of thanks for 
the entertainment I had given them. 

"Now," said he, "let us go and give the white men a 
chance to breathe." 

So the company all dispersed into the open air, and for 
some time the old chief was walking round the village, 
singing his song in praise of the feast, after the custom of 
the nation. 

At last the day drew to a close, and as the sun went 
down the horses came trooping from the surrounding 
plains to be picketed before the dwellings of their respec- 
tive masters. Soon within the great circle of lodges ap- 
peared another concentric circle of restless horses; and 
the fires were glowing and flickering amid the gloom, 
on the dusky figures around them. I went over and sat 
by the lodge of Reynal. The Eagle-Feather, who was a 
son of Mene-Seela, and brother of my host the Big Crow, 
was seated there already, and I asked him if the village 
would move in the morning. He shook his head, and said 
that nobody could tell, for since old Mahto-Tatonka had 
died, the people had been like children that did not know 
their own minds. They were no better than a body with- 



182 THE OREGON TRAIL 

out a head. So I, as well as the Indians themselves, fell 
asleep that night without knowing whether we should set 
out in the morning towards the country of the Snakes. 

At daybreak, however, as I was coming up from the 
river after my morning's ablutions, I saw that a movement 
was contemplated. Some of the lodges were reduced to 
nothing but bare skeletons of poles; the leather covering 
of others was flapping in the wind as the squaws pulled 
it off. One or two chiefs of note had resolved, it seemed, 
on moving; and so having set their squaws at work, the 
example was followed by the rest of the village. One by 
one the lodges were sinking down in rapid succession, and 
where the great circle of the village had been but a mo- 
ment before, nothing now remained but a ring of horses 
and Indians, crowded in confusion together. The ruins 
of the lodges were spread over the ground, together with 
kettles, stone mallets, great ladles of horn, buffalo-robes, 
and cases of painted hide, filled with dried meat. Squaws 
bustled about in busy preparation, the old hags scream- 
ing to one another at the stretch of their leathern lungs. 
The shaggy horses were patiently standing while the 
lodge-poles were lashed to their sides, and the baggage 
piled upon their backs. The dogs, with tongues lolling 
out, lay lazily panting, and waiting for the time of depart- 
ure. Each warrior sat on the ground by the decaying 
embers of his fire, unmoved amid the confusion, while he 
held in his hand the long trail-rope of his horse. 

As their preparations were completed, each family moved 
off the ground. The crowd was rapidly melting away. I 
could see them crossing the river, and passing in quick 
succession along the profile of the hill on the farther bank. 
When all were gone, I mounted and set out after them, 
followed by Raymond, and, as we gained the summit, the 
whole village came in view at once, straggling away for 
a mile or more over the barren plains before us. Every- 
where the iron points of lances were glittering. The sun 
never shone upon a more strange array. Here were the 
heavy-laden pack-horses, some wretched old women leading 



THE OGILLALLAH VILLAGE 183 

them, and two or three children clinging to their backs. 
Here were mules or ponies covered from head to tail with 
gaudy trappings, and mounted by some gay young squaw, 
grinning bashfuiness and pleasure as the ]\Ieneaska looked 
at her. Boys with miniature bows and arrows wandered 
over the plains, little naked children ran along on foot, 
and numberless dogs scampered among the feet of the 
horses. The young braves, gaudy with paint and feathers, 
rode in groups among the crowd, often galloping two or 
three at once along the line, to try the speed of their 
horses. Here and there you might see a rank of sturdy 
pedestrians stalking along in their white buffalo-robes. 
These were the dignitaries of the village, the old men and 
warriors, to whose age and experience that wandering 
democracy yielded a silent deference. With the rough 
prairie and the broken hills for its background, the rest- 
less scene was striking and picturesque beyond description. 
Days and weeks made me familiar with it, but never im- 
paired its effect upon my fancy. 

As we moved on, the broken column grew yet more scat- 
tered and disorderly, until, as we approached the foot of 
a hill, I saw the old men before mentioned seating them- 
selves in a line upon the ground, in advance of the whole. 
They lighted a pipe and sat smoking, laughing, and telling 
stories, while the people, stopping as they successively 
came up, were soon gathered in a crowd behind them. 
Then the old men rose, drew their buffalo-robes over their 
shoulders, and strode on as before. Gaining the top of 
the hill, we found a steep declivity before us. There was 
not a minute's pause. The whole descended in a mass, 
amid dust and confusion. The horses braced their feet 
as they slid down, women and children screamed, dogs 
yelped as they were trodden upon, while stones and earth 
went rolling to the bottom. In a few moments I could see 
the village from the summit, spreading again far and wide 
over the plain below. 

At our encampment that afternoon I was attacked anew 
by my old disorder. In half an hour the strength that I 



184 THE OREGON TRAIL 

had been gaining for a week past had vanished again, and 
I became like a man in a dream. But at sunset I lay down 
in the Big Crow's lodge and slept, totally unconscious till 
the morning. The first thing that awakened me was a 
hoarse flapping over my head, and a sudden light that 
poured in upon me. The camp was breaking up, and the 
squaws were moving the covering from the lodge. I arose 
and shook off my blanket with the feeling of perfect health ; 
but scarcely had I gained my feet when a sense of my help- 
less condition was once more forced upon me, and I found 
myself scarcely able to stand. Raymond had brought up 
Pauline and the mule, and I stooped to raise my saddle 
from the ground. My strength was inadequate to the task. 
"You must saddle her," said I to Raymond, as I sat down 
again on a pile of buffalo-robes. With a painful effort I 
raised myself into the saddle. As we were passing over a 
great plain, surrounded by long broken ridges, I rode slowly 
in advance of the Indians with thoughts that wandered 
far from the time and the place. Suddenly the sky 
darkened, and thunder began to mutter. Clouds were ris- 
ing over the hills, as dreary and dull as the first fore- 
bodings of an approaching calamity; and in a moment 
all around was wrapped in shadow. The Indians had 
stopped to prepare for the approaching storm, and the 
dense mass of savages stretched far to the right and left. 
Since the first attack of my disorder the effects of rain 
upon me had usually been injurious in the extreme. I 
had no strength to spare, having at that moment scarcely 
enough to keep my seat on horseback. Then, for the first 
time, it pressed upon me as a strong probability that I 
might never leave those deserts. "Well," thought I to 
myself, "the prairie makes quick and sharp work. Better 
to die here, in the saddle to the last, than to stifle in the 
hot air of a sick chamber; and a thousand times better 
than to drag out life, as many have done, in the helpless 
inaction of lingering disease." So, drawing the buffalo- 
robe on which I sat, over my head, I waited till the storm 
should come. It broke at last with a sudden burst of fury. 



THE OGILLALLAH VILLAGE 185 

and passing away as rapidly as it came, left the sky clear 
again. My reflections served me no other purpose than 
to look back upon as a piece of curious experience ; for 
the rain did not produce the ill effects that I had expected. 
AYe encamped within an hour. Having no change of 
clothes, I contrived to borrow a curious kind of substitute 
from Reynal; and this done, I went home, that is, to the 
Big Crow's lodge, to make the entire transfer that was 
necessary. Half a dozen squaws were in the lodge, and one 
of them taking my arm held it against her own, while a 
general laugh and scream of admiration was raised at the 
contrast in the color of the skin. 

Our encampment that afternoon was not far from a spur 
of the Black Hills, whose ridges, bristling with fir-trees, 
rose from the plains a mile or two on our right. That 
they might move more rapidly towards their proposed 
hunting-grounds, the Indians determined to leave at this 
place their stock of dried meat and other superfluous 
articles. Some left even their lodges, and contented them- 
selves with carrying a few hides to make a shelter from 
the sun and rain. Half the inhabitants set out in the 
afternoon, with loaded pack-horses, towards the mountains. 
Here they suspended the dried meat upon trees, where the 
wolves and grizzly bears could not get at it. All returned 
at evening. Some of the young men declared that they had 
heard the reports of guns among the mountains to the east- 
ward, and many surmises were thrown out as to the origin 
of these sounds. For my part, I was in hopes that Shaw 
and Henry Chatillon were coming to join us. I little sus- 
pected that at that very moment my unlucky comrade was 
lying on a buffalo robe at Fort Laramie, fevered with ivy 
poison, and solacing his woes with tobacco and Shakspeare. 

As we moved over the plains on the next morning, 
several young men rode about the country as scouts; and 
at length we began to see them occasionally on the tops 
of the hills, shaking their robes as a signal that they saw 
buffalo. Soon after, some bulls came in sight. Horsemen 
darted away in pursuit, and we could see from the distance 



186 THE OHEGON TRAIL 

that one or two of the buffalo were killed. Raymond sud- 
denly became inspired. 

"This is the country for me!" he said; "if I could only 
carry the buffalo that are killed here every month down 
to St. Louis, I 'd make my fortune in one winter. I 'd grow 
as rich as old Papin/ or Mackenzie either. I call this the 
poor man's market. When I'm hungry, I've only got to 
take my rifle and go out and get better meat than the 
rich folks down below can get, with all their money. You 
won't catch me living in St. Louis another winter." 

"No," said Reynal, "you had better say that, after you 
and your Spanish woman almost starved to death there. 
What a fool you were ever to take her to the settlements ! ' ' 

Here he interrupted himself with an oath, and exclaimed : 
"Look! look! The 'Panther' is running an antelope." 

The Panther, on his black-and-white horse, one of the 
best in the village, came at full speed over the hill in hot 
pursuit of an antelope, that darted away like lightning 
before him. The attempt was made in mere sport and 
bravado, for very few are the horses that can for a mo- 
ment compete in swiftness with this little animal. The 
antelope ran down the hill towards the main body of the 
Indians, who were moving over the plain below. Sharp 
yells were given, and horsemen galloped out to intercept 
his flight. At this he turned sharply to the left, and 
scoured away with such speed that he distanced all his 
pursuers, even the vaunted horse of The Panther himself. 
A few moments after, we witnessed a more serious sport. 
A shaggy buffalo-bull bounded out from a neighboring, 
hollow, and close behind him came a slender Indian boy, 
riding without stirrups or saddle, and lashing his eager 
little horse to full speed. Yard after yard he drew closer 
to his gigantic victim, though the bull, with his short tail 
erect and his tongue lolling out a foot from, his foaming 
jaws, was straining his unwieldy strength to the utmost. 
A moment more, and the boy was close alongside. It was 
our friend the Hail-Storm. He dropped the rein on his 

1 Papin was the bourgeois of Fort Laramie. 



THE OGILLALLAH VILLAGE 187 

horse's neck, and jerked an arrow like lightning from the 
quiver at his shoulder. 

"I tell you," said Reynal, "that in a year's time that 
boy will match the best hunter in the village. There, he 
has given it to him ! — and there goes another ! You feel 
well, now, old bull, don't you, with two arrows stuck in 
your lights ! There, he has given him another ! Hear how 
the Hail-Storm yells when he shoots! Yes, jump at him; 
try it again, old fellow ! You may jump all day before 
you get your horns into that pony ! ' ' 

The bull sprang again and again at his assailant, but 
the horse kept dodging with wonderful celerity. At length 
the bull followed up his attack with a furious rush, and 
the Hail-Storm was put to flight, the shaggy monster fol- 
lowing close behind. The boy clung in his seat like a 
leech, and secure in the speed of his little pony, looked 
round towards us and laughed. In a moment he was again 
alongside the bull who was now driven to desperation. 
His eyeballs glared through his tangled mane, and the 
blood flew from his mouth and nostrils. Thus, still battling 
with each other, the two enemies disappeared over the hill. 

Many of the Indians rode at full gallop towards the 
spot. We followed at a more moderate pace, and soon 
saw the bull lying dead on the side of the hill. The In- 
dians were gathered around him, and several knives were 
already at work. These little instruments were plied with 
such wonderful address, that the twisted sinews were cut 
apart, the ponderous bones fell asunder as if by magic, and 
in a moment the vast carcass was reduced to a heap of 
bloody ruins. The surrounding group of savages offered 
no very attractive spectacle to a civilized eye. Some were 
cracking the huge thigh-bones and devouring the marrow 
within; others were cutting away pieces of the liver, and 
other approved morsels, and swallowing them on the spot 
with the appetite of wolves. The faces of most of them, 
besmeared with blood from ear to ear, looked grim and 
horrible enough. My friend the White Shield proffered 
me a marrow bone, so skillfully laid open, that all the rich 



188 THE OREGON TRAIL 

substance within was exposed to view at once. Another 
Indian held out a large piece of the delicate lining of the 
paunch ; but these courteous offerings I begged leave to de- 
cline. I noticed one little boy who was very busy with his 
knife about the jaws and throat of the buffalo, from which 
he extracted some morsel of peculiar delicacy. It is but 
fair to say, that only certain parts of the animal are con- 
sidered eligible in these extempore banquets. 

We encamped that night, and marched westward through 
the greater part of the following day. On the next morn- 
ing we again resumed our journey. It was the seventeenth 
of July, unless my note-book misleads me. At noon we 
stopped by some pools of rain-water, and in the after- 
noon again set forward. This double movement was con- 
trary to the usual practice of the Indians, but all were very 
anxious to reach the hunting-ground, kill the necessary 
number of buffalo, and retreat as soon as possible from the 
dangerous neighborhood. I pass by for the present some 
curious incidents that occurred during these marches and 
encampments. Late in the afternoon of the last-mentioned 
day we came upon the banks of a little sandy stream, of 
which the Indians could not tell the name; for they were 
very ill acquainted with that part of the country. So 
parched and arid were the prairies around, that they could 
not supply grass enough for the horses to feed upon, and we 
were compelled to move farther and farther up the stream 
in search of ground for encampment. The country was 
much wilder than before. The plains were gashed with 
ravines and broken into hollows and steep declivities, which 
flanked our course, as, in long scattered array, the Indians 
advanced up the side of the stream. Mene-Seela consulted 
an extraordinary oracle to instruct him where the buffalo 
were to be found. When he with the other chiefs sat down 
on the grass to smoke and converse, as they often did dur- 
ing the march, the old man picked up one of those enormous 
black and green crickets, which the Dahcotah call by a 
name that signifies ' ' They who point out the buffalo. ' ' The 
"Root-Digo-ers," a wretched tribe beyond the mountains, 



THE OGILLALLAH VILLAGE 189 

turn them to good account by making them into a sort of 
soup, pronounced by certain unscrupulous trappers to be 
extremely rich. Holding the bloated insect respectfully 
between his fingers and thumb, the old Indian looked atten- 
tiveh' at him and inquired, "Tell me, my father, where 
must we go to-morrow to find the buffalo?" The cricket 
twusted about his long horns in evident embarrassment. 
At last he pointed, or seemed to point, them westward. 
Mene-Seela, dropping him gently on the grass, laughed 
with great glee, and said that if we went that way in the 
morning we should be sure to kill plenty of game. 

Towards evening we came upon a fresh green meadow, 
traversed by the stream, and deep-set among tall sterile 
bluffs. The Indians descended its steep bank; and as I 
was at the rear, I was one of the last to reach this point. 
Lances were glittering, feathers fluttering, and the water 
below me was crowded with men and horses passing 
through, while the meadow beyond swarmed with the rest- 
less crowd of Indians. The sun was just setting, and 
poured its softened light upon them through an opening in 
the hills. 

I remarked to Reynal, that at last we had found a good 
camping-ground. 

''Oh, it's very good," replied he, ironically, ''especially 
if there is a Snake war-party about, and they take it into 
their heads to shoot down at us from the top of these 
hills. It's no plan of mine, camping in such a hole as 
this." 

The Indians also seemed apprehensive. High up on the 
top of the tallest bluff, conspicuous in the bright evening 
sunlight, sat a. naked w^arrior on horseback, looking around 
over the neighboring country; and Raymond told me that 
many of the young men had gone out in different directions 
as scouts. 

The shadows had reached to the very summit of the 
bluffs before the lodges were erected, and the village re- 
duced again to quiet and order. A cry was suddenly 
raised, and men, women, and children came running out 



190 THE OREGON TRAIL 

with animated faces and looked eagerly through the open- 
ing in the hills by which the stream entered from the west- 
ward. I could discern afar off some dark, heavy masses, 
passing over the sides of a low hill. They disappeared, 
and then others followed. These were bands of buffalo- 
cows. The hunting-ground was reached at last, and every 
thing promised well for the morrow's sport. Being 
fatigued and exhausted, I lay down in Kongra-Tonga's 
lodge, when Raymond thrust in his head, and called upon 
me to come and see some sport. A number of Indians were 
gathered, laughing, along the line of lodges on the western 
side of the village, and at some distance, I could plainly 
see in the twilight two huge black monsters stalking, heavily 
and solemnly, directly towards us. They were buffalo- 
bulls. The wind blew from them to the village, and such 
was their blindness and stupidity, that they were advanc- 
ing upon the enemy without the least consciousness of his 
presence. Raymond told me that two young men had 
hidden themselves with guns in a ravine about twenty yards 
in front of us. The two bulls walked slowly on, heavily 
swinging from side to side in their peculiar gait of stupid 
dignity. They approached within four or five rods of the 
ravine where the Indians lay in ambush. Here at last 
they seemed conscious that something was wrong, for they 
both stopped and stood perfectly still, without looking 
either to the right or to the left. Nothing of them was to 
be seen but two black masses of shaggy mane, with horns, 
eyes, and nose in the centre, and a part of hoofs visible at 
the bottom. At last the more intelligent of them seemed 
to have concluded that it was time to retire. Very slowly, 
and with an air of the gravest and most majestic delibera- 
tion, he began to turn round, as if he were revolving on a 
pivot. Little by little his ugly brown side was exposed to 
view. A white smoke sprang out, as it were from the 
ground ; a sharp report came with it. The old bull gave 
a very undignified jump, and galloped off'. At this his 
comrade wheeled about with considerable expedition. The 
other Indian shot at him from the ravine, and then both 



THE OGILLALLAH VILLAGE 191 

the bulls ran away at full speed, while half the juvenilo 
population of the village raised a yell and ran after them. 
The first bull soon stopped, and while the crowd stood 
looking at him at a respectful distance, he reeled and rolled 
over on his side. The other, wounded in a less vital part, 
galloped away to the hills and escaped. 

In half an hour it was totally dark. I lay down to sleep, 
and ill as I was, there was something very animating in 
the prospect of the general hunt that was to take place on 
the morrow. 



CHAPTER XV 

THE HUNTING CAMP 

Long before daybreak the Indians broke up their camp. 
The women of Mene-Seela's lodge were as usual among the 
first that were ready for departure, and I found the old 
man himself sitting by the embers of the decaj^ed fire, over 
which he was warming his withered fingers, as the morn- 
ing was very chill and damp. The preparations for mov- 
ing were even more confused and disorderly than usual. 
While some families were leaving the ground the lodges of 
others were still standing untouched. At this, old Mene- 
Seela grew impatient, and walking out to the middle of the 
village, he stood with his robe wrapped close around him, 
and harangued the people in a loud, sharp voice. Now, he 
said, when they were on an enemy's hunting-grounds, was 
not the time to behave like children ; they ought to be more 
active and united than ever. His speech had some effect. 
The delinciuents took down their lodges and loaded their 
pack-horses; and when the sun rose, the last of the men, 
w^omen, and children had left the deserted camp. 

This movement was made merely for the purpose of find- 
ing a better and safer position. So we advanced only three 
or four miles up the little stream, before each family as- 
sumed its relative place in the great ring of the village, and 
the squaws were actively at work in preparing the camp. 
But not a single warrior dismounted from his horse. All 
the men that morning were mounted on inferior animals, 
leading their best horses by a cord, or confiding them to the 
care of boys. In small parties they began to leave the 
ground and ride rapidly away over the plains to the west- 
ward. I had taken no food, and not being at all ambitious 
of further abstinence, I went into my host's lodge, which. 

192 



THE HUNTING CAMP 193 

his squaws had erected with wonderful celerity, and sat 
down in the centre, as a gentle hint that I was hungry. A 
wooden bowl was soon set before me, filled with the nutri- 
tious preparation of dried meat, called pemmican by the 
northern voyagers, and wasna by the Dahcotah. Taking a 
handful to break my fast upon, I left the lodge just in time 
to see the last band of hunters disappear over the ridge of / 
the neighboring hill. I mounted Pauline and galloped in 
pursuit, riding rather by the balance than by any muscular 
strength that remained to me. 

From the top of the hill I could overlook a wide extent 
of desolate prairie, over which, far and near, little parties 
of naked horsemen were rapidly passing. I soon came 
up to the nearest, and we had not ridden a mile before all 
were united into one large and compact body. All was 
haste and eagerness. Each hunter whipped on his horse, 
as if anxious to be the first to reach the game. In such 
movements among the Indians this is always more or less 
the case; but it was especially so in the present instance, 
because the head chief of the village was absent, and there 
were but few "soldiers," a sort of Indian police, who 
among their other functions usually assume the direction of 
a buffalo hunt. No man turned to the right hand or to the 
left. We rode at a swift canter straight forward, up hill 
and down hill, and through the stiff, obstinate growth of the 
endless wild-sage bushes. For an hour and a half the same 
red shoulders, the same long black hair rose and fell with 
the motion of the horses before me. Very little was said, 
though once I observed an old man severely reproving Ray- 
mond for having left his rifle behind him, when there was 
some probability of encountering an enemy before the day 
was over. As we galloped across a plain thickly set with 
sage bushes, the foremost riders vanished suddenly from 
sight, as if diving into the earth. The arid soil was cracked 
into a deep ravine. Down we all went in succession and 
galloped in a line along the bottom, until we found a 
point where, one by one, the horses could scramble out. 
:Soon after, we came upon a wide, shallow stream, and as we 



194 THE OREGON TRAIL 

rode swiftly over the hard sand-beds and through the thin 
sheets of rippling water, many of the savage horsemen 
threw themselves to the ground, knelt on the sand, snatched 
a hasty draught, and leaping back again to their seats, gal- 
loped on as before. 

Meanwhile scouts kept in advance of the party ; and now 
we began to see them on the ridges of the hills, waving 
their robes in token that buffalo were visible. These how- 
ever proved to be nothing more than old straggling bulls, 
feeding upon the neighboring plains, who would stare for 
a moment at the hostile array and then gallop clumsily off. 
At length we could discern several of these scouts making 
their signals to us at once; no longer waving their robes 
boldly from the top of the hill, but standing lower down, 
so that they could not be seen from the plains beyond. 
Game worth pursuing had evidently been discovered. The 
excited Indians now urged forward their tired horses even 
more rapidly than before. Pauline, who was still sick and 
jaded, began to groan heavily; and her yellow sides were 
darkened with sweat. As we were crowding together over 
a lower intervening hill, I heard Reynal and Raymond 
shouting to me from the left ; and, looking in that direction, 
I saw them riding away behind a party of about twenty 
mean-looking Indians. These were the relatives of Reynal's 
squaw, Margot, who, not wishing to take part in the general 
hunt, were riding towards a distant hollow, where they 
could discern a small band of buffalo which they had meant 
to appropriate to themselves. I answered to the call by 
ordering Raymond to turn back and follow me. He re- 
luctantly obeyed, though Reynal, who had relied on his 
assistance in skinning, cutting up, and carrying to camp 
the buffalo that he and his party should kill, loudly pro- 
tested, and declared that we should see no sport, if we went 
with the rest of the Indians. 

Followed by Raymond, I pursued the main body of hunt- 
ers, while Reynal, in a great rage, whipped his horse over 
the hill after his ragmuffin relatives. The Indians, still 
about a hundred in number, rode in a dense body at 



THE HUNTING CAMP 195 

some distance in advance, a cloud of dust flying in the wind 
behind them. I could not overtake them until they had 
stopped on the side of the hill where the scouts were stand- 
ing. Here each hunter sprang in haste from the tired ani- 
mal he had ridden, and leaped upon the fresh horse he had 
brought with him. There was not a saddle or a bridle in 
the whole party. A piece of buffalo-robe, girthed over 
the horse 's back, served in the place of the one, and a cord 
of twisted hair, lashed round his lower jaw, answered for 
the other. Eagle feathers dangled from every mane and tail, 
as marks of courage and speed. As for the rider, he wore 
no other clothing than a light cincture at his waist, and a 
pair of moccasins. He had a heavy whip, with a handle of 
solid elk-horn, and a lash of knotted bull-hide, fastened to 
his wrist by a band. His bow was in his hand, and his 
quiver of otter or panther skin hung at his shoulder. Thus 
equipped, some thirty of the hunters galloped away towards 
the left, in order to make a circuit under cover of the hills, 
that the buffalo might be assailed on both sides at once. 
The rest impatiently waited until time enough had elapsed 
for their companions to reach the required position. Then 
riding upward in a body, we gained the ridge of the hill, 
and for the first time we came in sight of the buffalo on the 
plain beyond. 

They were a band of cows, four or five hundred in number, 
crowded together near the bank of a wide stream that was 
soaking across the sand-beds of the valley. This was a 
large circular basin, sun-scorched and broken, scantily cov- 
ered with herbage, and encompassed with high barren hills, 
from an opening in which we could see our allies gallop- 
ing out upon the plain. The wind blew from that direction. 
The buffalo, aware of their approach, had begun to move, 
though very slowly and in a compact mass. I have no 
farther recollection of seeing the game until we were in 
the midst of them, for as we descended the hill other objects 
engrossed my attention. 

Numerous old bulls were scattered over the plain, and un- 
gallantly deserting their charge at our approach began to 



196 THE OREGON TRAIL 

wade and plunge through the quicksands of the stream, 
and gallop away towards the hills. One old veteran was 
straggling behind the rest, with one of his fore-legs, which 
had been broken by some accident, dangling about uselessly. 
His appearance as he went shambling along on three legs, 
was so ludicrous, that I could not help pausing for a mo- 
ment to look at him. As I came near, he would try to rush 
upon me, nearly throwing himself down at every awkward 
attempt. Looking up, I saw the whole body of Indians 
full an hundred yards in advance. I lashed Pauline in 
pursuit and reached them just in time ; for, as we mingled 
among them, each hunter, as if by common impulse, vio- 
lently struck his horse : each horse sprang forward, and, 
scattering in the charge in order to assail the entire herd at 
once, we all rushed headlong upon the buffalo. We were 
among them in an instant. Amid the trampling and the 
yells I could see their dark figures running hither and 
thither through clouds of dust, and the horsemen darting 
in pursuit. While we were charging on one side, our com- 
panions attacked the bewildered and panic-stricken herd 
on the other. The uproar and confusion lasted but a mo- 
ment. The dust cleared away, and the buffalo could be 
seen scattering as from a common center, flying over the 
plain singly, or in long files and small compact bodies, 
while behind them followed the Indians, riding at furious 
speed, and yelling as they launched arrow after arrow into 
their sides. The carcasses were strewn thickly over the 
ground. Here and there wounded buffalo were standing, 
their bleeding sides feathered with arrows; and as I rode 
past them their eyes would glare, they would bristle like 
gigantic cats, and feebly attempt to rush up and gore my 
horse. 

I left camp that morning with a philosophic resolution. 
Neither I nor my horse were at that time fit for such sport, 
and I had determined to remain a quiet spectator ; but amid 
the rush of horses and buffalo, the uproar and the dust, I 
found it impossible to sit still ; and as four or five buffalo 
ran past me in a line, I drove Pauline in pursuit. We went 



THE HUNTING CAMP . 197 

plunging through the water and the quicksands, and clam- 
bering the bank, chased them through the wild-sage bushes 
that covered the rising ground beyond. But neither her 
native spirit nor the blows of the knotted bull-hide could 
supply the place of poor Pauline's exhausted strength. We 
could not gain an inch upon the fugitives. At last, how- 
ever, they came full upon a ravine too wide to leap over; 
and as this compelled them to turn abruptly to the left, I 
contrived to get within ten or twelve yards of the hindmost. 
At this she faced about, bristled angrily, and made a show 
of charging. I shot at her, and hit her somewhere in the 
neck. Down she tumbled into the ravine, whither her com- 
panions had descended before her. I saw their dark backs 
appearing and disappearing as they galloped along the bot- 
tom; then, one by one, they scrambled out on the other 
side, and ran off as before, the w^ounded animal following 
with unabated speed. 

Turning back, I saw Rajanond coming on his black mule 
to meet me; and as we rode over the field together, we 
counted dozens of carcasses lying on the plain, in the ra- 
vines, and on the sandy bed of the stream. Far away in 
the distance, horsemen and buffalo were still scouring along, 
with clouds of dust rising behind them ; and over the sides 
of the hills long files of the frightened animals were rapidly 
ascending. The hunters began to return. The boys, who 
had held the horses behind the hill, made their appearance, 
and the work of flaying and cutting up began in earnest 
all over the field. I noticed my host Kongra-Tonga be- 
yond the stream, just alighting by the side of a cow which 
he had killed. Riding up to him, I found him in the act 
of drawing out an arrow, which, with the exception of the 
notch at the end, had entirely disappeared in the animal. 
I asked him to give it to me, and I still retain it as a proof, 
though by no means the most striking one that could be 
offered, of the force and dexterity with which the Indians 
discharge their arrows. 

The hides and meat were piled upon the horses, and the 
hunters began to leave the ground. Raymond and I, too. 



198 THE OREGON TRAIL 

getting tired of the scene, set out for the village, riding 
straight across the intervening desert. There was no path, 
and as far as I could see, no landmarks sufficient to guide 
us; but Raymond seemed to have an instinctive perception 
of the point on the horizon towards which we ought to 
direct our course. Antelope were bounding on all sides, 
and as is always the case in the presence of buffalo, they 
seemed to have lost their natural shyness. Bands of them 
would run lightly up the rocky declivities, and stand gazing 
down upon us from the summit. At length we could dis- 
tinguish the tall white rocks and the old pine-trees that, as 
we well remembered, were just above the site of the encamp- 
ment. Still we could see nothing of the village itself, until, 
mounting a grassy hill, we saw the circle of lodges, dingy 
with storms and smoke, standing on the plain at our feet. 

I entered the lodge of my host. His squaw instantly 
brought me food and water, and spread a buffalo-robe for 
me to lie upon; and being much fatigued I lay down and 
fell asleep. In about an hour, the entrance of Kongra- 
Tonga, with his arms smeared with blood to the elbows, 
awoke me; he sat down in his usual seat, on the left side 
of the lodge. His squaw gave him a vessel of water for 
washing, set before him a bowl of boiled meat, and, as he 
was eating, pulled off his bloody moccasins and placed fresh 
ones on his feet ; then outstretching his limbs, my host com- 
posed himself to sleep. 

And now the hunters, two or three at a time, came 
rapidly in, and each consigning his horses to the squaws, 
entered his lodge with the air of a man whose day's work 
was done. The squaws flung down the load from the 
burdened horses, and vast piles of meat and hides were 
soon accumulated before every lodge. By this time it was 
darkening fast, and the whole village was illumined by 
the glare of fires. All the squaws and children were 
gathered about the piles of meat, exploring them in search 
of the daintiest portions. Some of these they roasted on 
sticks before the fires, but often they dispensed with this 
superfluous operation. Late into the night the fires were 



THE HUNTING CAMP 199 

still glowing upon the groups of feasters engaged in this 
savage banquet around them. 

Several hunters sat down by the fire in Kongra-Tonga's 
lodge to talk over the day's exploits. Among the rest, 
Mene-Seela came in. Though he must have seen full 
eighty winters, he had taken an active share in the day's 
sport. He boasted that he had killed two cows that morn- 
ing, and would have killed a third if the dust had not 
blinded him so that he had to drop his bow and arrows 
and press both hands against his eyes to stop the pain. 
The fire-light fell upon his wrinkled face and shrivelled 
figure as he sat telling his story with such inimitable 
gesticulation that every man in the lodge broke into a 
laugh. 

Old Mene-Seela was one of the few Indians in the village 
with whom I would have trusted myself alone without 
suspicion, and the only one from whom I should have re- 
ceived a gift or a service without the certainty that it 
proceeded from an interested motive. He was a great 
friend to the whites. He liked to be in their society, and 
was very vain of the favors he had received from them. 
He told me one afternoon, as we were sitting together in 
his son's lodge, that he considered the beaver and the 
whites the wisest people on earth; indeed, he was con- 
vinced they were the same; and an incident which had 
happened to him long before had assured him of this. So 
he began the following story, and as the pipe passed in 
turn to him, Reynal availed himself of these interruptions 
to translate what had preceded. But the old man accom- 
panied his words with such admirable pantomime that 
translation was hardly necessary. 

He said that when he was very young, and had never yet 
seen a white man, he and three or four of his companions 
were out on a beaver hunt, and he crawled into a large 
beaver-lodge, to see what was there. Sometimes he crept 
on his hands and knees, sometimes he was obliged to swim, 
and sometimes to lie flat on his face and drag himself along. 
In this way he crawled a great distance under ground. 



200 THE OREGON TRAIL 

It was very dark, cold, and close, so that at last he 
was almost sutt'ocated, and fell into a swoon. When he 
began to recover, he could just distinguish the voices of 
his companions outside, who had given him up for lost, 
and were singing his death-song. At first he could see 
nothing, but soon discerned something white before him, 
and at length plainly distinguished three people, entirely 
white, one man and two women, sitting at the edge of a 
black pool of water. He became alarmed, and thought it 
high time to retreat. Having succeeded, after great 
trouble, in reaching dajdight again, he went to the spot 
directly above the pool of water where he had seen the 
three mysterious beings. Here he beat a hole with his war- 
club in the ground, and sat down to watch. In a moment 
the nose of an old male beaver appeared at the opening. 
Mene-Seela instantly seized him and dragged him up, when 
two other beavers, both females, thrust out their heads, and 
these he served in the same way. "These," continued the 
old man, "must have been the three white people whom 
I saw sitting at the edge of the water." 

Mene-Seela was the grand depositary of the legends and 
traditions of the village. I succeeded, however, in getting 
from him only a few fragments. Like all Indians, he was 
excessively superstitious, and continually saw some reason 
for withholding his stories. "It is a bad thing," he would 
say, "to tell the tales in summer. Stay with us till next 
winter, and I will tell you every thing I know; but now 
our war-parties are going out, and our young men will be 
killed if I sit down to tell stories before the frost begins." 

But to leave this digression. We remained encamped 
on this spot five days, during three of which the hunters, 
w^ere at work incessantly, and immense quantities of meat 
and hides were brought in. Great alarm, however, pre- 
vailed in the village. All Avere on the alert. The young 
men ranged the country as scouts, and the old men paid 
careful attention to omens and prodigies, and especially 
to their dreams. In order to convey to the enemy (who, 
if they were in the neighborhood, must inevitably have 



THE HUNTING CAMP 201 

known of our presence) the impression that we were con- 
stantly on the watch, piles of sticks and stones were 
erected on all the surrounding hills in such a manner as 
to appear at a distance like sentinels. Often, even to this 
hour, that scene will rise before my mind like a visible 
reality; the tall white rocks; the old pine-trees on their 
summits; the sandy stream that ran along their bases 
and half encircled the village; and the wild-sage bushes, 
with their dull green hue and their medicinal odor, that 
covered all the neighboring declivities. Hour after hour 
the squaws would pass and repass with their vessels of 
w^ater between the stream and the lodges. For the most 
part, no one was to be seen in the camp but women and 
children, two or three superannuated old men, and a few 
lazy and worthless young ones. These, together with the 
dogs, now grown fat and good-natured with the abundance 
in the camp, were its only tenants. Still it presented a 
busy and bustling scene. In all quarters the meat, hung 
on cords of hide, was drying in the sun, and around the 
lodges, the squaws, young and old, were laboring on the 
fresh hides stretched upon the ground, scraping the hair 
from one side and the still adhering flesh from the other, 
and rubbing into them the brains of the buffalo, in order 
to render them soft and pliant. 

In mercy to myself and my horse, I did not go out with 
the hunters after the first day. Of late, however, I had 
been gaining strength rapidly, as was always the case upon 
every respite of my disorder. I was soon able to walk 
with ease. Raymond and I would go out upon the neigh- 
boring prairies to shoot antelope, or sometimes to assail 
straggling buffalo, on foot; an attempt in w^hich we met 
with rather indifferent success. As I came out of Kongra- 
Tonga's lodge one morning, Reynal called to me from the 
opposite side of the village, and asked me over to break- 
fast. The breakfast was a substantial one. It consisted 
of the rich, juicy hump-ribs of a fat cow; a repast abso- 
lutely unrivalled. It was roasting before the fire, impaled 
upon a stout stick, which Reynal took up and planted in 



202 THE OREGON TRAIL 

the ground before his lodge; when he, with Raymond and 
myself, taking our seats around it, unsheathed our knives 
and assailed it with good will. In spite of all medical 
experience, this solid fare, without bread or salt, seemed 
to agree with me admirably. 

''We shall have strangers here before night," said Rey- 
nal. 

"How do you know that?" I asked. 

"I dreamed so. I am as good at dreaming as an Indian. 
There's the Hail-Storm; he dreamed the same thing, and 
he and his crony. The Rabbit, have gone out on discovery. ' ' 

I laughed at Reynal for his credulity, went over to my 
host's lodge, took down my rifle, walked out a mile or two 
on the prairie, saw an old bull standing alone, crawled 
up a ravine, shot him, and saw him escape. Then, ex- 
hausted and rather ill-humored, I walked back to the 
village. By a strange coincidence, Reynal's prediction 
had been verified; for the first persons whom I saw were 
the two trappers, Rouleau and Saraphin, coming to meet 
me. These men, as the reader may possibly recollect, had 
left our party about a fortnight before. They had been 
trapping among the Black Hills, and were now on their 
way to the Rocky Mountains, intending in a day or two to 
set out for the neighboring Medicine Bow.^ They were 
not the most elegant or refined of companions, yet they 
made a very welcome addition to the limited society of the 
village. For the rest of that day we lay smoking and talk- 
ing in Reynal's lodge. This indeed was no better than a 
hut, made of hides stretched on poles, and entirely open in 
front. It was well carpeted with soft buffalo-robes, and 
here we remained, sheltered from the sun, surrounded by 
the domestic utensils of Madame Margot's household. 

All was quiet in the village. Though the hunters had 
not gone out that day, they lay sleeping in their lodges, 
and most of the women were silently engaged in their heavy 

1 The Medicine Bow Mountains lie some forty miles west of the 
Black Hills. 



THE HUNTING CAMP 203 

tasks. A few young men were playing at a lazy game of 
ball in the center of the village; and when they became 
tired, some girls supplied their place with a more boisterous 
sport. At a little distance, among the lodges, some chil- 
dren and half -grown squaws were playfully tossing one of 
their number in a buffalo-robe, an exact counterpart of the 
ancient pastime from which Sancho Panza suffered so 
much. Farther out on the prairie, a host of little naked 
boys were roaming about, engaged in various rough games, 
or pursuing birds and ground-squirrels with their bows and 
arrows; and woe to the unhappy little animals that fell 
into their merciless, torture-loving hands. A squaw from 
the next lodge, a notable housewife, named Weah Washtay, 
or the Good Woman, brought us a large bowl of wasna, 
and went into an ecstasy of delight when I presented her 
with a green glass ring, such as I usually wore with a 
Tiew to similar occasions. 

The sun went down, and half the sky was glowing fiery 
red, reflected on the little stream" as it wound away among 
the sage-bushes. Some young men left the village, and 
soon returned, driving in before them all the horses, hun- 
dreds in number, and of every size, age, and color. The 
hunters came out, and each securing those that belonged to 
him, examined their condition, and tied them fast by long 
cords to stakes driven in front of his lodge. It was half 
an hour before the bustle subsided and tranquillity was 
restored again. By this time it was nearly dark. Kettles 
were hung over the fires, around which the squaws were 
gathered with their children, laughing and talking merrily. 
A circle of a different kind was formed in the centre of 
the village. This was composed of the old men and war- 
riors of repute, who with their white buffalo-robes drawn 
close around their shoulders sat together; and as the pipe 
passed from hand to hand, their conversation had not a 
particle of the gravity and reserve usually ascribed to In- 
dians. I sat down w^ith them as usual. I had in my hand 
half a dozen squibs and serpents, which I had made one 



204 THE OREGON TRAIL 

day when encamped upon Laramie Creek, of gunpowder 
and charcoal, and the leaves of ''Fremont's Expedition," ^ 
rolled round a stout lead-pencil. I waited till I could get 
hold of the large piece of burning hois-de-vache which the 
Indians kept by them on the ground for lighting their 
pipes. With this I lighted all the fireworks at once, and 
tossed them whizzing and sputtering into the air, over the 
heads of the company. They all jumped up and ran oft* 
with yelps of astonishment and consternation. After a 
moment or two, they ventured to come back one by one, 
and some of the boldest, picking up the cases of burnt 
paper, examined them with eager curiosity to discover their 
mysterious secret. From that time forward I enjoyed 
great repute as a "fire-medicine." 

The camp w^as filled with the low hum of cheerful voices. 
There w^re other sounds, however, of a different kind ; for 
from a large lodge, lighted up like a gigantic lantern by 
the blazing fire within, came a chorus of dismal cries and 
wailings, long drawn out, like the howling of wolves, and a 
woman, almost naked, was crouching close outside, crying 
violently, and gashing her legs with a knife till they were 
covered with blood. Just a year before, a young man be- 
longing to this family had been slain by the enemy, and 
his relatives were thus lamenting his loss. Still other 
sounds might be heard; loud earnest cries often repeated 
from amid the gloom, at a distance beyond the village. 
They proceeded from some young men who, being about to 
set out in a few days on a war-expedition, were standing at 
the top of a hill, calling on the Great Spirit to aid them in 
their enterprise. While I was listening. Rouleau, with a 
laugh on his careless face, called to me and directed my at- 
tention to another quarter. In front of the lodge where 
Weah Washtay lived, another squaw was standing, angrily 
scolding an old yellow dog, who lay on the ground with 
his nose resting between his paws, and his eyes turned 
sleepily up to her face, as if pretending to give respectful 

2 Published the year before. See Introduction, p. xxix. 



THE HUNTING CAMP 205 

attention, but resolved to fall asleep as soon as it was all 
over. 

"You ought to be ashamed of yourself!" said the old 
woman. "I have fed you well, and taken care of you 
ever since you were small and blind, and could only crawl 
about and squeal a little, instead of howling as you do 
now. When you grew old, I said you were a good dog. 
You were strong and gentle when the load was put on 
your back, and you never ran among the feet of the 
horses when we were all traveling together over the 
prairie. But you had a bad heart! Whenever a rabbit 
jumped out of the bushes, you were always the. first to 
run after him and lead away all the other dogs behind 
you. You ought to have known that it -was very danger- 
ous to act so. When you had got far out on the prairie, 
and no one was near to help you, perhaps a wolf would 
jump out of the ravine ; and then what could you do ? 
You would certainly have been killed, for no dog can 
fight well with a load on his back. Only three days ago 
you ran off in that way, and turned over the bag of wooden 
pins with which I used to fasten up the front of the lodge. 
Look up there, and you will see that it is all flapping 
open. And now to-night you have stolen a great piece of 
fat meat which was roasting before the fire for my children. 
I tell you, you have a bad heart, and you must die!" 

So saying, the squaw went into the lodge, and coming 
out with a large stone mallet, killed the unfortunate dog 
at one blow. This speech is worthy of notice, as illustrat- 
ing a curious characteristic of the Indians: the ascribing 
intelligence and a power of understanding speech to the 
inferior animals; to whom, indeed, according to many of 
their traditions, they are linked in close affinity; and they 
even claim the honor of a lineal descent from bears, wolves, 
deer, or tortoises. 

As it grew late, I w^alked across the village to the lodge 
of my host, Kongra-Tonga. As I entered I saw him, by 
the blaze of the fire in the center, reclining half asleep in 



206 THE OREGON TRAIL 

his usual place. His couch was by no means an uncom- 
fortable one. It consisted of buffalo-robes, laid together 
on the ground, and a pillow made of whitened deer-skin, 
stuffed with feathers and ornamented with beads. At his 
back was a light frame-work of poles and slender reeds, 
against which he could lean with ease when in a sitting 
posture; and at the top of it, just above his head, hung- 
his bow and quiver. His squaw, a laughing, broad-faced 
woman, apparently had not yet completed her domestic 
arrangements, for she was bustling about the lodge, pulling 
over the utensils and the bales of dried meat that were 
ranged carefully around it. Unhappily, she and her part- 
ner were not the only tenants of the dwelling; for half a 
dozen children were scattered about, sleeping in every 
imaginable posture. My saddle was in its place at the 
head of the lodge, and a buffalo-robe was spread on the 
ground before it. Wrapping myself in my blanket, I lay 
down ; but had I not been extremely fatigued, the noise in 
the next lodge would have prevented my sleeping. There 
was the monotonous thumping of the Indian drum, mixed 
with occasional sharp yells, and a chorus chanted by twenty 
voices. 

A grand scene of gambling was going forward with all 
the appropriate formalities. The players were staking on 
the chances of the game their ornaments, their horses, and 
as the excitement rose, their garments, and even their 
weapons ; for desperate gambling is not confined to the hells 
of Paris. The men of the plains and forests no less resort 
to it as a relief to the tedious monotony of their lives, which 
alternate between fierce excitement and listless inaction. 
I fell asleep with the dull notes of the drum still sound- 
ing on my ear ; but these orgies lasted without intermission 
till daylight. I was soon awakened by one of the children 
crawling over me, while another larger one was tugging at 
my blanket and nestling himself in a very disagreeable 
proximity. I immediately repelled these advances by 
punching the heads of these miniature savages with a short 
stick which I always kept by me for the purpose; and as 



THE HUNTING CAMP 207 

sleeping half the day and eating much more than is good 
for them makes them extremely restless, this operation 
usually had to be repeated four or five times in the course 
of the night. 

My host himself was the author of another formidable 
annoyance. All these Indians, and he among the rest, 
think themselves bound to the constant performance of 
certain acts as the condition on which their success in life 
depends, whether in war, love, hunting, or any other em- 
ployment. These "medicines," as they are called, which 
are usually communicated in dreams, are often absurd 
enough. Some Indians will strike the butt of the pipe 
against the ground every time they smoke; others will 
insist that every thing they say shall be interpreted by 
contraries; and Shaw once met an old man who conceived 
that all would be lost unless he compelled every white man 
he met to drink a bowl of cold water. My host was 
particularly unfortunate in his allotment. The Great 
Spirit had told him that he must sing a certain song in 
the middle of every night; and regularly at about twelve 
o'clock his dismal monotonous chanting would awaken me, 
and I would see him seated bolt upright on his couch, going 
through his dolorous performance with a most business-like 
air. There were other voices of the night, still more in- 
harmonious. Twice or thrice, between sunset and dawn, 
all the dogs in the village, and there were hundreds of 
them, would bay and yelp in chorus; a horrible clamor, 
resembling no sound that I have ever heard, except per- 
haps the frightful howling of wolves that we used some- 
times to hear, long afterward, when descending the 
Arkansas on the trail of General Kearney's army.^ This 
canine uproar is, if possible, more discordant than that of 
the wolves. Heard at a distance slowly rising on the night, 
it has a strange unearthly effect, and would fearfully 
haunt the dreams of a nervous man; but when you are 
sleeping in the midst of it, the din is outrageous. One 
long, loud howl begins it, and voice after voice takes up 

3 See Chap. XXI and following. 



208 THE OREGON TRAIL 

the song, till it passes around the whole circumference of 
the village, and the air is filled with confused and dis- 
cordant cries, at once fierce and mournful. It lasts but for 
a moment, and then dies away into silence. 

Morning came, and Kongra-Tonga, mounting his horse, 
rode out with the hunters. It may not be amiss to glance 
at him for an instant in his character of husband and 
father. Both he and his squaw, like most other Indians, 
were very fond of their children, whom they indulged to ex- 
cess, and never punished, except in extreme cases, when 
they would throw a bowl of cold water over them. Their 
offspring became sufficiently undutiful and disobedient 
under this system of education, which tends not a little to 
foster that wild idea of liberty and utter intolerance of 
restraint which lie at the foundation of the Indian 
character. It would be hard to find a fonder father than 
Kongra-Tonga. There was one urchin in particular, rather 
less than two feet high, to whom he was exceedingly at- 
tached; and sometimes spreading a buffalo-robe in the 
lodge, he would seat himself upon it, place his small 
favorite upright before him, and chant in a low tone some 
of the words used as an accompaniment to the war-dance. 
The little fellow, who could just manage to balance himself 
by stretching out both arms, would lift his feet and turn 
slowly round and round in time to his father's music, while 
my host would laugh with delight, and look smiling up 
into my face to see if I were admiring this precocious per- 
formance of his offspring. In his capacity of husband he 
w^as less exemplary. The squaw who lived in the lodge 
wath him had been his partner for many years. She took 
good care of his children and his household concerns. He 
liked her well enough, and as far as I could see, they never 
quarrelled; but his warmer affections were reserved for 
younger and more recent favorites. Of these he had at 
present only one, who lived in a lodge apart from his own. 
One day while in this camp, he became displeased with her, 
pushed her out, threw after her her ornaments, dresses, 
and every thing she had, and told her to go home to her 



THE HUNTING CAJVIP 209 

father. Having consummated this summary divorce, for 
which he could show good reasons, he came back, seated 
himself in his usual place, and began to smoke with an 
air of the utmost tranquillity and self-satisfaction. 

I was sitting in the lodge with him on that very after- 
noon, when I felt some curiosity to learn the history of 
the numerous scars that appeared on his naked body. Of 
some of them, however, I did not venture to inquire, for 
I already understood their origin. Each of his arms was 
marked as if deeply gashed with a knife at regular inter- 
vals, and there were other scars also of a different char- 
acter, on his back and on either breast. They were the 
traces of the tortures which these Indians, in common 
with a few other tribes, inflict upon themselves at certain 
seasons; in part, it may be, to gain the glory of courage 
and endurance, but chiefly as an act of self-sacrifice to 
secure the favor of the spirits. The scars upon the breast 
and back were produced by running through the flesh 
strong splints of wood, to which large buffalo-skulls are 
fastened by cords of hide, and the wretch runs forward 
with all his strength, assisted by two companions, who 
take hold of each arm, until the flesh tears apart and 
the heavy loads are left behind.* Others of Kongra- 
Tonga's scars Avere the result of accidents; but he had 
many received in war. He was one of the most noted war- 
riors in the village. In the course of his life he had slain, 
as he boasted to me, fourteen men ; and though, like other 
Indians, he was a braggart and utterly regardless of truth, 
yet common report bore him out. Being flattered b}' my 
inquiries, he told me tale after tale, true or false, of his 
warlike exploits; and there was one among the rest illus- 
trating the worst features of Indian character too well for 
me to omit it. Pointing out of the opening of the lodge 
towards the Medicine Bow Mountain, not many miles 
distant, he said that he was there a few summers ago with 

4 A detailed and illustrated account of this and other initiation 
■ceremonies among the Mandans may be found in Catlin, I., 155-177. 
The Dakota usage was apparently similar. 



210 THE OREGON TRAIL 

a war-party of his young men. Here they found twO' 
Snake Indians, hunting. They shot one of them with 
arrows, and chased the other up the side of the mountain 
till they surrounded him, and Kongra-Tonga himself, 
jumping forward among the trees, seized him by the arm. 
Two of his young men then ran up and held him fast 
while he scalped him alive. They then built a great fire,, 
and cutting the tendons of their captive's wrists and feet, 
threw him in, and held him down with long poles until 
he was burnt to death. He garnished his story with de- 
scriptive particulars much too revolting to mention. His 
features were remarkably mild and open, without the 
fierceness of expression common among these Indians; and 
as he detailed these devilish cruelties, he looked up into 
my face with the air of earnest simplicity which a little 
child would wear in relating to its mother some anecdote 
of its youthful experience. 

Old Mene-Seela's lodge could offer another illustration 
of the ferocity of Indian warfare. A bright-eyed active 
little boy was living there. He had belonged to a village 
of the Gros-Ventre Blackfeet, a small but bloody and 
treacherous band, in close alliance with the Arapahoes. 
About a year before, Kongra-Tonga and a party of war- 
riors had found about twenty lodges of these Indians 
upon the plains a little to the eastward of our present 
camp ; and surrounding them in the night, they butchered 
men, women, and children, preserving only this little boy 
alive. He was adopted into the old man's family, and 
was now fast becoming identified with the Ogillallah chil- 
dren, among whom he mingled on equal terms. There was 
also a Crow warrior in the village, a man of gigantic 
stature and most symmetrical proportions. Having been 
taken prisoner many years before and adopted by a squaw 
in place of a son whom she had lost, he had forgotten his 
old national antipathies, and was now both in act and 
inclination an Ogillallah. 

It will be remembered that the scheme of the grand 
war-party against the Snake and Crow Indians originated 



THE HUNTING CAMP 211 

in this village; and though this plan had fallen to the 
ground, the embers of martial ardor continued to glow. 
Eleven young men had prepared to go out against the 
enemy, and the fourth day of our stay in this camp was 
fixed upon for their departure. At the head of this party 
was a well-built, active little Indian, called the White 
Shield, whom I had always noticed for the neatness of his 
dress and appearance. His lodge too, though not a large 
one, was the best in the village, his squaw was one of the 
prettiest, and altogether his dwelling was the model of an 
Ogillallah domestic establishment. I was often a visitor 
there, for the White Shield being rather partial to white 
men used to invite me to continual feasts at all hours of 
the day. Once, when the substantial part of the enter- 
tainment was concluded, and he and I were seated cross- 
legged on a buffalo-robe smoking together very amicably, 
he took down his warlike equipments, which were hanging 
around the lodge, and displayed them with great pride 
and self-importance. Among the rest was a superb head- 
dress of feathers. Taking this from its case, he put it on 
and stood before me, as if conscious of the gallant air 
which it gave to his dark face and his vigorous graceful 
figure. He told me that upon it were the feathers of three 
war-eagles, equal in value to the same number of good 
horses. He took up also a shield gayly painted and hung 
with feathers. The effect of these barbaric ornaments 
was admirable. His quiver was made of the spotted skin 
of a small panther, common among the Black Hills, from 
which the tail and distended claws were still allowed to 
hang. The White Shield concluded his entertainment in 
a manner characteristic of an Indian. He begged of me 
a little powder and ball, for he had a gun as well as a bow 
and arrows ; but this I was obliged to refuse, because I had 
scarcely enough for my own use. Making him, however, a 
parting present of a paper of vermilion, I left him quite 
contented. 

On the next morning the White Shield took cold, and 
was attacked with an inflammation of the throat. Im- 



212 THE OREGON TRAIL 

mediately he seemed to lose all spirit, and though before 
no warrior in the village had borne himself more proudly, 
he now moped about from lodge to lodge with a forlorn 
and dejected air. At length he sat down, close wrapped 
in his robe, before the lodge of Reynal, but when he found 
that neither he nor I knew how to relieve him, he arose 
and stalked over to one of the medicine-men of the village. 
This old impostor thumped him for some time with both 
fists, howled and yelped over him, and beat a drum close 
to his ear to expel the evil spirit. This treatment failing 
of the desired effect, the White Shield withdrew to his 
own lodge, where he lay disconsolate for some hours. 
Making his appearance once more in the afternoon, he 
again took his seat on the ground before Reynal's lodge, 
holding his throat with his hand. For some time he sat 
silent with his eyes fixed mournfully on the ground. At 
last he began to speak in a low tone. 

"I am a brave man," he said; "all the young men 
think me a great warrior, and ten of them are ready to go 
with me to the war. I will go and show them the enemy. 
Last summer the Snakes killed my brother. I cannot live 
unless I revenge his death. To-morrow we will set out and 
I will take their scalps." 

The White Shield, as he expressed this resolution, seemed 
to have lost all the accustomed fire and spirit of his look, 
and hung his head as if in a fit of despondency. 

As I was sitting that evening at one of the fires, I saw 
him arrayed in his splendid war-dress, his cheeks painted 
with vermilion, leading his favorite war-horse to the front 
of his lodge. He mounted and rode round the village, 
singing his war-song in a loud hoarse voice amid the shrill 
acclamations of the women. Then dismounting, he re- 
mained for some minutes prostrate upon the ground, as 
if in an act of supplication. On the following morning 
I looked in vain for the departure of the warriors. All 
was quiet in the village until late in the forenoon, when 
the White Shield came and seated himself in his old place 



THE HUXTIXG CAMP 213 

before us. Reynal asked him why he had not gone out 
to find the enemy "? 

"I cannot go," answered the White Shield in a dejected 
voice. "I have given my war-arrows to the Meneaska. " 

"You have only given him two of your arrows," said 
Reynal. *'If you ask him, he will give them back again." 

For some time the AYhite Shield said nothing. At last 
he spoke in a gloomy tone, — 

"One of my young men has had bad dreams. The 
spirits of the dead came and threw stones at him in his 
sleep. ' ' 

If such a dream had actually taken place it might have 
broken up this or any other war-party, but both Reynal 
and I were convinced at the time that it was a mere 
fabrication to excuse his remaining at home. 

The White Shield was a warrior of noted prowess. 
Very probably, he would have received a mortal wound 
without the show of pain, and endured without flinching^ 
the worst tortures that an enemy could inflict upon him. 
The whole power of an Indian's nature would be sum- 
moned to encounter such a trial ; every influence of his 
education from childhood would have prepared him for 
it ; the cause of his suffering would have been visibly and 
palpably before him, and his spirit would rise to set his 
enemy at defiance, and gain the highest glory of a warrior 
by meeting death with fortitude. But when he feels him- 
self attacked by a mysterious evil, before whose assaults 
his manhood is wasted, and his strength drained away, 
when he can see no enemy to resist and defy, the boldest 
warrior falls prostrate at once. He believes that a bad 
spirit has taken possession of him, or that he is the victim 
of some charm. When suffering from a protracted dis- 
order, an Indian will often abandon himself to his sup- 
posed destiny, pine away and die, the victim of his own 
imagination. The same effect wdll often follow a series 
of calamities, or a long run of ill-luck, and the sufferer has 
been known to ride into the midst of an enemy's camp. 



214 THE OREGON TRAIL 

or attack a grizzly bear single-handed, to get rid of a life 
which he supposed to lie under the doom of misfortune. 

Thus after all his fasting, dreaming, and calling upon 
the Great Spirit, the White Shield's war-party was piti- 
fully broken up. 



CHAPTER XYI 

THE TRAPPERS 

In speaking of the Indians, I have ahnost forgotten two 
bold adventurers of another race, the trappers Rouleau 
and Saraphin. These men were bent on a hazardous en- 
terprise. , They were on the point of setting out to the 
country of the Arapahoes, a day's journey westward of 
our camp. These Arapahoes, of whom Shaw and I after- 
wards fell in with a large village, are ferocious barbarians, 
who of late had declared themselves enemies to the whites, 
and threatened death to the first who should venture within 
their territory. The occasion of the declaration was as fol- 
lows : — 

In the previous spring, 1845, Col. Kearney left Fort 
Leavenworth with several companies of dragoons, and, 
marching with extraordinary celerity reached Fort Lara- 
mie, from which he passed along the foot of the moun- 
tain to Bent's Fort,^ and then, turning eastward again, 
returned to the point whence he set out. While at Fort 
Laramie, he sent a part of his command as far westward 
as Sweetwater,- while he himself remained at the fort, and 
despatched messages to the surrounding Indians to meet 
him there in council. Then for the first time the tribes 
of that vicinity saw the white warriors, and, as might 
have been expected, they were lost in astonishment at their 
regular order, their gay attire, the completeness of their 
martial equipment, and the size and power of their horses. 
Among the rest, the Arapahoes came in considerable num- 

1 Bent's Fort was a trading post on the Arkansas River, far to 
the south. Parkman visited it later. See Chap. XXI, 

2 The Sweetwater runs into the Platte far to the west, about 
halfway between Fort Laramie and the South Pass. 

215 



216 THE OREGON TEAIL 

bers to the fort. They had lately committed numerous 
outrages, and Col. Kearney threatened that if they killed 
any more white men he would turn loose his dragoons upon 
them, and annihilate their nation. In the evening, to add 
effect to his speech, he ordered a howitzer to be fired and 
a rocket to be thrown up. Many of the Arapahoes fell 
flat on the ground, while others ran away screaming with 
amazement and terror. On the following day they with- 
drew to their mountains, confounded at the appearance 
of the dragoons, at their big gun which went off twice 
at one shot, and the fiery messenger which they had sent 
up to the Great Spirit. 

For many months they remained quiet, and did no 
farther mischief. At length, just before we came into 
the country, one of them, by an act of the basest treachery, 
killed two white men. Boot and May, who were trapping 
among the mountains. For this act it was impossible to 
discover a motive. It seemed to spring from one of those 
inexplicable impulses which often actuate Indians, and 
appear to be mere outbreaks of native ferocity. No 
sooner was the murder committed than the whole tribe 
were in consternation. They expected every day that the 
avenging dragoons would come, little thinking that a desert 
of nine hundred miles lay between them and their foes. 
A large deputation of them came to Fort Laramie, bring- 
ing a valuable present of horses, as compensation. These 
Bordeaux refused to accept. They then asked if he would 
be satisfied with their delivering up the murderer himself; 
but he declined this offer also. The Arapahoes went back 
more terrified than ever. Weeks passed away, and still no 
dragoons appeared. A result followed which those best 
acquainted with Indians had predicted. They imagined 
that fear had prevented Bordeaux from accepting their 
gifts, and that they had nothing to apprehend from the 
vengeance of the whites. From terror they rose to the 
height of insolence. They called the white men cowards 
and old women; and a friendly Dahcotah came to Fort 



THE TRAPPERS 217 

Laramie and reported that they were determined to kill 
the first white dog whom they could lay hands on. 

Had a military officer, with suitable powers, been sta- 
tioned at Fort Laramie, and having accepted the offer of the 
Arapahoes to deliver up the murderer, had ordered him 
to be immediately shot in presence of his tribe, they would 
have been awed into tranquillity, and much danger 
averted; but now the neighborhood of the Medicine Bow 
Mountain was in extreme peril. Old Mene-Seela, a true 
friend of the whites, and many other of the Indians, 
gathered about the two trappers, and vainly endeavored 
to turn them from their purpose; but Rouleau and 
Saraphin only laughed at the danger. On the morning 
preceding that on which they were to leave the camp, 
we could all see faint white columns of smoke rising 
against the dark base of the Medicine Bow. Scouts were 
sent out immediately, and reported that these proceeded 
from an Arapahoe camp, abandoned only a few hours be- 
fore. Still the two trappers continued their preparations 
for departure. 

Saraphin was a tall, powerful fellow, with a sullen and 
sinister countenance. His rifle had very probably drawn 
other blood than that of buffalo or Indians. Rouleau had 
a broad ruddy face, marked with as few traces of thought 
or care as a child's. His figure was square and strong, 
but the first joints of both his feet were frozen oft', and 
his horse had lately thrown and trampled upon him, by 
which he had been severely injured in the chest. But 
nothing could check his gayety. He went all day rolling 
about the camp on his stumps of feet, talking, singing,, 
and frolicking with the Indian women. Rouleau had an 
unlucky partiality for squaws. He always had one, whom 
he must needs bedizen with beads, ribbons, and all the 
finery of an Indian wardrobe ; and though he was obliged 
to leave her behind him during his expeditions, this haz- 
ardous necessity did not at all trouble him, for his disposi- 
tion w^as the reverse of jealous. If at any time he had not 



218 THE OREGON TRAIL 

lavished the whole of the precarious profits of his voca- 
tion upon his dark favorite, he devoted the rest to feasting 
his comrades. If liquor was not to be had — and this was 
usually the case — strong coffee would be substituted. As 
the men of that region are by no means remarkable for 
providence or self-restraint, whatever was set before them 
on these occasions, however extravagant in price or enor- 
mous in quantity, was sure to be disposed of at one sitting. 
Like other trappers, Rouleau's life was one of contrast and 
variety. It was only at certain seasons, and for a limited 
time, that he was absent on his expeditions. For the rest 
of the year he would lounge about the fort, or encamp with 
his friends in its vicinity, hunting, or enjoying all the 
luxury of inaction ; but when once in pursuit of the beaver, 
he was involved in extreme privations and perils. Hand 
and foot, eye and ear, were incessantly active. Frequently 
he must content himself with devouring his evening meal 
uncooked, lest the light of his fire should attract the eyes 
of some wandering Indian ; and sometimes having made his 
rude repast, he must leave his fire still blazing, and with- 
draw to a distance under cover of the darkness, that his 
disappointed enemy, drawn thither by the light, may find 
his victim gone, and be unable to trace his footsteps in the 
gloom. This is the life led by scores of men in the Rocky 
Mountains and vicinity. I once met a trapper whose breast 
was marked with the scars of six bullets and arrows, one of 
his arms broken by a shot and one of his knees shattered ; 
yet still, with the mettle of New England, from which part 
of the country he had come, he continued to follow his 
perilous occupation. 

On the last day of our stay in this camp, the trappers 
were ready for departure. When in the Black Hills they 
had caught seven beavers, and they now left their skins in 
charge of Reynal, to be kept until their return. Their 
strong, gaunt horses w^re equipped with rusty Spanish 
bits, and rude Mexican saddles, to which wooden stirrups 
were attached, while a buffalo-robe was rolled up behind, 
and a bundle of beaver-traps slung at the pommel. These, 



THE TRAPPERS 219 

together with their rifles, knives, powder-horns and bullet- 
pouches, flint and steel and a tin cup, composed their whole 
traveling equipment. They shook hands with us, and 
rode away; Saraphin, with his grim countenance, was in 
advance; but Rouleau, clambering gayly into his seat, 
kicked his horse's sides, flourished his whip, and trotted 
briskly over the prairie, trolling forth a Canadian song at 
the top of his voice. Reynal looked after them with his 
face of brutal selfishness. 

"Well," he said, "if they are killed, I shall have the 
beaver. They'll fetch me fifty dollars at the fort, any- 
how." 

This was the last I saw of them. 

"We had been five days in the hunting-camp, and the 
meat, which all this time had hung drying in the sun, was 
now fit for transportation. Buffalo-hides also had been 
procured in sufficient quantities for making the next sea- 
son's lodges; but it remained to provide the long poles on 
which they were to be supported. These were only to be 
had among the tall spruce woods of the Black Hills, and 
in that direction therefore our next move was to be made. 
Amid the general abundance which during this time had 
prevailed in the camp, there were no instances of indi- 
vidual privation ; for although the hide and the tongue of 
the buffalo belong by exclusive right to the hunter who 
has killed it, yet any one else is equally entitled to help 
himself from the rest of the carcass. Thus the weak, the 
aged, and even the indolent come in for a share of the 
spoils, and many a helpless old woman, who would other- 
w^ise perish from starvation, is sustained in abundance. 

On the twenty-fifth of July, late in the afternoon, the 
camp broke up, with the usual tumult and confusion, and 
we all moved once more, on horseback and on foot, over the 
plains. We advanced however but a few miles. The old 
men, who during the whole march had been stoutly strid- 
ing along on foot in front of the people, now seated them- 
selves in a circle on the ground, while the families, erecting 
their lodges in the prescribed order around them, formed 



220 THE OREGON TRAIL 

the usual great circle of the camp ; meanwhile these village 
patriarchs sat smoking and talking. I threw my bridle 
to Raymond, and sat down as usual along with them. 
There was none of that reserve and apparent dignity which 
an Indian always assumes when in council, or in the pres- 
ence of white men whom he distrusts. The party, on the 
contrary, was an extremely merry one, and as in a social 
circle of a quite different character, ''if there was not much 
wit, there was at least a great deal of laughter." 

When the first pipe was smoked out, I rose and with- 
drew to the lodge of my host. Here I was stooping, in 
the act of taking off my powder-horn and bullet-pouch, 
when suddenly, and close at hand, pealing loud and shrill, 
and in right good earnest, came the terrific yell of the war- 
whoop. Kongra-Tonga's squaw snatched up her youngest 
child, and ran out of the lodge. I followed, and found 
the whole village in confusion, resounding with cries and 
yells. The circle of old men in the centre had vanished. 
The warriors, with glittering eyes, came darting, weapons 
in hand, out of the low openings of the lodges, and running 
with wild yells towards the farther end of the village. 
Advancing a few rods in that direction, I saw a crowd in 
furious agitation. Just then I distinguished the voices of 
Raymond and Reynal, shouting to me from a distance, and 
looking back, I saw the latter with his rifle in his hand, 
standing on the farther bank of a little stream that ran 
along the outskirts of the camp. He was calling to Ray- 
mond and me to come over and join him, and Raymond, 
with his usual deliberate gait and stolid countenance, was 
already moving in that direction. 

This was clearly the wisest course, unless we wished to 
involve ourselves in the fray; so I turned to go, but just 
then a pair of eyes, gleaming like a snake's, and an aged 
familiar countenance was thrust from the opening of a 
neighboring lodge, and out bolted old Mene-Seela, full of 
fight, clutching his bow and arrows in one hand and his 
knife in the other. At that instant he tripped and fell 
sprawling on his face, while his weapons flew scattering in 



THE TRAPPERS 221 

every direction. The women with loud screams were hurry- 
ing with their children in their arms to place them out 
of danger, and I observed some hastening to prevent mis- 
chief, by carrying away all the weapons they could lay 
hands on. On a rising ground close to the camp stood a 
line of old women singing a medicine-song to allay the 
tumult. As I approached the side of the brook, I heard 
gun-shots behind me, and turning back saw that the crowd 
had separated into two long lines of naked warriors con- 
fronting each other at a respectful distance, and yelling 
and jumping about to dodge the shot of their adversaries, 
while they discharged bullets and arrows against each other. 
At the same time certain sharp, humming sounds in the 
air over my head, like the flight of beetles on a summer 
evening, warned me that the danger w^as not wholly confined 
to the immediate scene of the fray. So wading through 
the brook, I joined Reynal and Raymond, and we sat down 
on the grass, in the posture of an armed neutrality, to 
w^atch the result. 

Happily it may be for ourselves, though contrary to our 
expectation, the disturbance was quelled almost as soon as 
it begun. When I looked again, the combatants were once 
more mingled together in a mass. Though yells sounded 
occasionally from the throng, the firing had entirely ceasecl, 
and I observed five or six persons moving busily about, as 
if acting the part of peace-makers. One of the village 
heralds or criers proclaimed in a loud voice something 
which my two companions were too much engrossed in their 
own observations, to translate for me. The crowd began 
to disperse, though many a deep-set black eye still glittered 
with an unnatural lustre, as the warriors slowly withdrew 
to their lodges. This fortunate suppression of the disturb- 
ance was owing to a few of the old men, less pugnacious 
than Mene-Seela, who boldly ran in between the com- 
batants, and aided by some of the "soldiers,"^ or Indian 
police, succeeded in effecting their object. 

It seemed very strange to me that although many arrows 

3 See p. 223. 



222 THE OREGON TRAIL 

and bullets were discharged, no one was mortally hurt, and 
I could only account for this by the fact that both the 
marksman and the object of his aim were leaping about in- 
cessantly. By far the greater part of the villagers had 
joined in the fray, for although there were not more than 
a dozen guns in the whole camp, I heard at least eight or 
ten shots fired. 

In a quarter of an hour all was comparatively quiet. A 
large circle of warriors was again seated in the center of the 
village, but this time I did not venture to join them, be- 
cause I could see that the pipe, contrary to the usual order, 
was passing from the left hand to the right around the 
circle ; a sure sign that a ' ' medicine-smoke " * of recon- 
ciliation was going forward, and that a white man w^ould 
be an intruder. When I again entered the still agitated 
camp it was nearly dark, and mournful cries, howls, and 
wailings resounded from many female voices. AVhether 
these had any connection with the late disturbance, or were 
merely lamentations for relatives slain in some former war 
expeditions, I could not distinctly ascertain. 

To inquire too closely into the cause of the quarrel was 
by no means prudent, and it was not until some time after 
that I discovered what had given rise to it. Among the 
Dahcotah there are many associations or fraternities, con- 
nected with their superstitions, w^arfare, or social life. One 
was called "The Arrow Breakers," now in great measure 
disbanded and dispersed. In the village there were how- 
ever four men belonging to it, distinguished by the peculiar 
arrangement of their hair, w^hich rose in a high bristling 
mass above their foreheads, adding greatly to their appar- 
ent height, and giving them a most ferocious appearance. 
The principal among them was the Mad Wolf, a warrior 
of remarkable size and strength, great courage, and the 
fierceness of a demon. I had always looked upon him as 
the most dangerous man in the village; and though he 

•t Like anything else belonging to "medicine," this was something 
mysterious and secret. 



THE TRAPPERS 223 

often invited me to feasts, I never entered his lodge un- 
armed. The Mad Wolf had taken a fancy to a fine horse 
belonging to another Indian, called the Tall Bear; and 
anxious to get the animal in his possession, he made the 
owner a present of another horse nearty equal in value. 

According to the customs of the Dahcotah, the acceptance 
of this gift involved a sort of obligation to make a return ; 
and the Tall Bear well understood that the other had his 
favorite buffalo-horse in view\ He however accepted the 
present wdthout a word of thanks, and having picketed the 
horse before his lodge, suffered day after day to pass with- 
out making the expected return. The Mad Yfolf grew 
impatient; and at last, seeing that his bounty was not 
likely to produce the desired return, he resolved to reclaim 
it. So this evening, as soon as the village was encamped^ 
he went to the lodge of Tall Bear, seized upon the horse 
he had given him, and led him away. At this the Tall 
Bear broke into one of those fits of sullen rage not uncom- 
mon among Indians, ran up to the unfortunate horse, and 
gave him three mortal stabs with his knife. . Quick as 
lightning the Mad Wolf drew his bow to its utmost tension, 
and held the arrow quivering close to the breast of his 
adversary. The Tall Bear, as the Indians who were neaj- 
him said, stood wath his bloody knife in his hand, facing 
the assailant with the utmost calmness. Some of his friends 
and relatives, seeing his danger, ran hastily to his assist- 
ance. The remaining three Arrow-Breakers, on the other 
hand, came to the aid of their associate. Their friends 
joined them, the war-cry was raised, and the tumult became 
general. 

The "soldiers," who lent their timely aid in putting it 
clown, are the most important executive functionaries in 
an Indian village. The office is one of considerable honor, 
being confided only to men of courage and repute. They 
derive their authority from the old men and chief w^ar- 
riors of the village, who elect them in councils occasion- 
ally convened for the purpose, and thus can exercise a de- 



224 THE OEEGON TRAIL 

gree of authority which no one else in the village would 
dare to assume. While very few Ogillallah chiefs could 
ventm-e without risk of their lives to strike or lay hands 
upon the meanest of their people, the "soldiers," in the 
discharge of their appropriate functions, have full license 
to make use of these and similar acts of coercion. 



CHAPTER XVII 

THE BLACK HILLS 

We traveled eastward for two days, and then the gloomy 
ridges of the Black Hills rose up before iis. The village 
passed along for some miles beneath their declivities, trail- 
ing out to a great length over the arid prairie, or winding 
among small detached hills of distorted shapes. Turning 
sharply to the left, we entered a wide defile of the moun- 
tains, down the bottom of which a brook came winding, 
lined with tall grass and dense copses, amid w^hich were 
hidden many beaver-dams and lodges. We passed along 
between two lines of high precipices and rocks piled in dis- 
order one upon another, with scarcely a tree, a bush, or a 
clump of grass. The restless Indian boys wandered along 
their edges and clambered up and dow^n their rugged sides, 
and sometimes a group of them w^ould stand on the verge 
of a cliff and look down on the array as it passed in re- 
view beneath them. As we advanced, the passage grew 
more narrow; then it suddenly expanded into a round 
grassy meadow, completely encompassed by mountains; 
and here the families stopped as they came up in turn, 
and the camp rose like magic. 

The lodges were hardly erected when, with their usual 
precipitation, the Indians set about accomplishing the ob- 
ject that had brought them there; that is, obtaining poles 
for their new lodges. Half the population, men, women, 
and boys, mounted their horses and set out for the in- 
terior of the mountains. As they rode at full gallop over 
the shingly rocks and into the dark opening of the defile 
beyond, I thought I had never read or dreamed of a more 
strange or picturesque cavalcade. We passed between 
precipices more than a thousand feet high, sharp and 

225 



226 ' THE OREGON TRAIL 

splintering: at the tops, their sides beetling over the defile 
or descending in abrupt declivities, bristling with fir-trees. 
On our left they rose close to us like a wall, but on the 
right a winding brook with a narrow strip of marshy soil 
intervened. The stream was clogged with old beaver- 
dams, and spread frequently into wide pools. 

There were thick bushes and many dead and blasted 
trees along its course, though frequently nothing remained 
but stumps cut close to the ground by the beaver, and 
marked with the sharp chisel-like teeth of those inde- 
fatigable laborers. Sometimes we dived among trees, and 
then emerged upon open spots, over which, Indian-like, 
all galloped at full speed. As Pauline bounded over the 
rocks I felt her saddle-girth slipping, and alighted to draw 
it tighter; when the whole cavalcade swept past me in a 
moment, the women with their gaudy ornaments tinkling 
as they rode, the men whooping, laughing, and lashing 
forward their horses. Two black-tailed deer bounded away 
among the rocks ; Raymond shot at them from horseback ; 
the sharp report of his rifle was answered by another 
equally sharp from the opposing cliffs, and then the echoes, 
leaping in rapid succession from side to side, died away 
rattling far amid the mountains. 

After having ridden in this manner six or eight miles, 
the scene changed, and all the declivities were covered with 
forests of tall, slender spruce-trees. The Indians began 
to fall off to the right and left, dispersing with their 
hatchets and knives to cut the poles which they had come 
to seek. I was soon left almost alone; but in the stillness 
of those lonely mountains, the stroke of hatchets and the 
sound of voices might be heard from far and near. 

Reynal, who imitated the Indians in their habits as well 
as the worst features of their character, had killed buffalo 
enough to make a lodge for himself and his squaw, and 
now he was eager to get the poles necessary to complete 
it. He asked me to let Raymond go with him, and assist 
in the work. I assented, and the two men immediately 
entered the thickest part of the wood. Having left my 



THE BLACK HILLS 227 

horse in Raymond's keeping I began to climb the moun- 
tain. I was weak and weary, and made slow progress, 
often pausing to rest, but after an hour, I gained a height 
whence the little valley out of which I had climbed seemed 
like a deep, dark gulf, though the inaccessible peak of the 
mountain was still towering to a much greater distance 
above. Objects familiar from childhood surrounded me; 
crags and rocks, a black and sullen brook that gurgled with 
a hollow voice deep among the crevices, a wood of mossy 
distorted trees and prostrate trunks flung down by age 
and storms, scattered among the rocks, or damming the 
foaming waters of the brook. 

Wild as they w^ere, these mountains were thickly peopled. 
As I climbed farther, I found the broad dusty paths made 
by the elk, as they filed across the mountain side. The 
grass on all the terraces was trampled down by deer ; there 
were numerous tracks of wolves, and in some of the rougher 
and more precipitous parts of the ascent, I found foot- 
prints different from any that I had ever seen, and which 
I took to be those of the Rocky Mountain sheep. I sat 
down upon a rock; there was a perfect stillness. No wind 
was stirring, and not even an insect could be heard. I 
recollected the danger of becoming lost in such a place, 
and fixed my eye upon one of the tallest pinnacles of the 
opposite mountain. It rose sheer upright from the woods 
below, and, by an extraordinary freak of nature, sustained 
aloft on its very summit a large loose rock. Such a land- 
mark could never be mistaken, and feeling once more se- 
cure, I began again to move forward. A white wolf 
jumped up from among some bushes, and leaped clumsily 
away; but he stopped for a moment, and turned back his 
keen eye and grim bristling muzzle. I longed to take his 
scalp and carry it back with me, as a trophy of the Black 
Hills, but before I could fire, he was gone among the rocks. 
Soon after I heard a rustling sound, with a cracking of 
tw^igs at a little distance, and saw moving above the tall 
bushes the branching antlers of an elk. I was in the midst 
of a hunter's paradise. 



228 THE OREGON TRAIL 

Such are the Black Hills, as I found them in July; but 
they wear a different garb when winter sets in, when the 
broad boughs of the fir-trees are bent to the ground by the 
load of snow, and the dark mountains are white with it. 
At that season the trappers, returned from their autumn 
expeditions, often build their cabins in the midst of these 
solitudes, and live in abundance and luxury on the game 
that harbors there. I have heard them relate, how, with 
perhaps a few young Indian companions, they had spent 
months in total seclusion. They would dig pitfalls, and 
set traps for the white wolves, sables, and martens, and 
though through the whole night the awful chorus of the 
wolves would resound from the frozen mountains around 
them, yet within their massive walls of logs they would lie 
in careless ease before the blazing fire, and in the morn- 
ing shoot elk and deer from their very door. 



CHAPTER XVIII 

A MOUNTAIN HUNT 

The camp was full of the newly-cnt lodge-poles ; some^ 
already prepared, were stacked together, white and glisten- 
ing, to dry and harden in the sun ; others were lying on 
the ground, and the squaws, the boys, and even some of 
the warriors, were busily at work peeling off the bark and 
paring them with their knives to the proper dimensions. 
Most of the hides obtained at the last camp were dressed 
and scraped thin enough for use, and many of the squaws 
were engaged in fitting them together and sewing them 
with sinews, to form the coverings for the lodges. Men 
were wandering among the bushes that lined the brook 
along the margin of the camp, cutting sticks of red willow, 
or sliongsaska, the bark of which, mixed with tobacco, they 
use for smoking. Rej^nal's squaw was hard at work with 
her awl and buffalo sinews upon her lodge, while her pro- 
prietor, having just finished an enormous breakfast of meat, 
was smoking a social pipe with Raymond and myself. He 
proposed at length that we should go out on a hunt. ''Go 
to the Big Crow's lodge," said he, '' and get your rifle. 
I'll bet the gray Wyandot pony against your mare that 
we start an elk or a black-tailed deer, or likely as not, a 
big-horn before we are two miles out of camp. I'll take 
my squaw 's old yellow horse ; you can 't whip her more than 
four miles an hour, but she is as good for the mountains as a 
mule." 

I mounted the black mule which Raymond usually rode. 
She was a powerful animal, gentle and manageable enough 
by nature ; but of late her temper had been soured by mis- 
fortune. About a week before, I had chanced to offend 
some one of the Indians, who out of revenge went secretly 

229 



230 THE OREGON TRAIL 

^f 

into the meadow and gave her a severe stab in the hauncli 
with his knife. The wound, though partially healed, still 
galled her extremely, and made her even more perverse and 
obstinate than the rest of her species. 

The morning was a glorious one, and I was in better 
health than I had been at any time for the last two months. 
We left the little valley and ascended a rocky hollow in 
the mountain. Very soon we were out of sight of the camp, 
and of every living thing, man, beast, bird, or insect. I 
had never before, except on foot, passed over such execrable 
ground, and I desire never to repeat the experiment. The 
black mule grew indignant, and even the redoubtable yel- 
low horse stumbled every moment, and kept groaning to 
himself as he cut his feet and legs among the sharp rocks. 

It was a scene of silence and desolation. Little was 
visible except beetling crags and the bare shingly side of 
the mountains, relieved by scarcely a trace of vegetation. 
At length, however, we came upon a forest tract, and had 
no sooner done so than we heartily wished ourselves back 
among the rocks again; for we were on a steep descent, 
among trees so thick that we could see scarcely a rod in any 
direction. 

If one is anxious to place himself in a situation where 
the hazardous and the ludicrous are combined in about equal 
proportions, let him get upon a vicious mule, with a 
snaffle bit, and try to drive her through the woods down 
a slope of forty-five degrees. Let him have a long rifle, 
a buckskin frock with long fringes, and a head of long 
hair. These latter appendages will be caught every mo- 
ment and twitched away in small portions by the twigs, 
which will also whip him smartly across the face, while the 
large branches above thump him on the head. His mule, 
if she be a true one, will alternately stop short and dive 
violently forward, and his positions upon her back will be 
somewhat diversified. At one time he will clasp her affec- 
tionately, to avoid the blow of a bough overhead ; at another 
he will throw himself back and fling his knee forward against 



A MOUNTAIN HUNT 231 

her neck, to keep it from being crushed between the rough 
bark of a tree and the ribs of the animal. Eeynal was 
cursing incessantly during the whole way down. Neither 
of us had the remotest idea w^here we were going; and 
though I have seen rough riding, I shall always retain an 
evil recollection of that five minutes' scramble. 

At last we left our troubles behind us, emerging into 
the channel of a brook that circled along the foot of the 
descent; and here, turning joyfully to the left, we rode at 
ease over the white pebbles and the rippling water, shaded 
from the glaring sun by an overarching green transparency. 
These halcyon moments were of short duration. The 
friendly brook, turning sharply to one side went brawling 
and foaming down the rocky hill into an abyss which, as 
far as we could see, had not bottom ; so once more we be- 
took ourselves to the detested woods. When next we came 
out from their shadow and sunlight, we found ourselves 
standing in the broad glare of day, on a high jutting point 
of the mountain. Before us stretched a long, wide desert 
valley, w^inding away far amid the mountains. Reynal 
gazed intently; he began to speak at last: — 

"Many a time, when I was w4th the Indians, I have been 
hunting for gold all through the Black Hills. There's 
plenty of it here; you may be certain of that. I have 
dreamed about it fifty times, and I never dreamed yet but 
what it came out true. Look over yonder at those black 
rocks piled up against that other big rock. Don't it look 
as if there might be something there? It won't do for a 
white man to be rummaging too much about these moun- 
tains; the Indians say they are full of bad spirits; and I 
believe myself that it's no good luck to be hunting about 
here after gold. Well, for all that, I would like to have 
one of those fellows up here, from down bejow, to go about 
with his witch-hazel rod,^ and I'll guarantee that it would 
not be long before he would light on a gold-mine. Never 

1 Even in more civilized communities the witch-hazel has been 
used to find water. 



232 THE OREGON TKAIL 

mind; we'll let the gold alone for to-day. Look at those 
trees down below us in the hollow; we'll go down there, 
and I reckon we '11 get a black-tailed deer. ' ' 

But Eeynal's predictions were not verified. We passed 
mountain after mountain, and valley after valley; we ex- 
plored deep ravines; yet still, to my companion's vexation 
and evident surprise, no game could be found. So, in the 
absence of better, we resolved to go out on the plains and 
look for an antelope. With this view we began to pass 
down a narrow valley, the bottom of which was covered 
with the stiff wild-sage bushes, and marked with deep 
paths, made by the buffalo, who, for some inexplicable rea- 
son, are accustomed to penetrate, in their long grave pro- 
cessions, deep among the gorges of these sterile mountains. 

Eeynal's eye ranged incessantly among the rocks and 
along the edges of the precipices, in hopes of discovering 
the mountain-sheep peering down upon us from that giddy 
elevation. Nothing was visible for some time. At length 
we both detected something in motion near the foot of one 
of the mountains, and a moment afterward a black-tailed 
deer stood gazing at us from the top of a rock, and then, 
slowly turning away, disappeared behind it. In an instant 
Reynal was out of his saddle, and running towards the 
spot. I, being too weak to follow, sat holding his horse 
and waiting the result. I lost sight of him; then heard 
the report of his rifle deadened among the rocks, and 
finally saw him reappear, with a surly look, that plainly 
betrayed his ill success. Again we moved forward down 
the long valley, when soon after we came full upon what 
seemed a wide and very shallow ditch, incrusted at the 
bottom with white clay, dried and cracked in the sun. 
Under this fair outside Reynal's eye detected the signs 
of lurking mischief. He called to me to stop, and then 
alighting, picked up a stone and threw it into the ditch. 
To my amazement it fell with a dull splash, breaking at 
once through the thin crust, and spattering round the hole 
a yellowish creamy fluid, into which it sank and disap- 
peared. A stick, five or six feet long, lay on the ground, 



A MOUNTAIN HUNT 233 

and with this we sounded the insidious abyss close to its 
edge. It was just possible to touch the bottom. Places 
like this are numerous among the Rocky Mountains. The 
buffalo, in his blind and heedless walk, often plunges into 
them unawares. Down he sinks; one snort of terror, one 
convulsive struggle, and the slime calmly flows above his 
shaggy head, the languid undulations of its sleek and placid 
surface alone betraying how the powerful monster writhes 
in his death-throes below. 

AVe found after some trouble a point where we could 
pass the abyss, and now the valley began to open upon 
plains which spread to the horizon before us. On one of 
their distant swells we discerned three or four black specks, 
which Reynal pronounced to be buffalo. 

' ' Come, ' ' said he, ' ' we must get one of them. My squaw 
wants more sinews to finish her lodge with, and I want 
some glue myself." 

He immediately put the yellow horse to such a gallop as 
he was capable of executing, while I set spurs to the mule, 
who soon far outran her plebeian rival. When we had gal- 
loped a mile or more, a large rabbit, by ill-luck, sprang 
up just under the feet of the mule, who bounded violently 
aside in full career. Weakened as I was, I was flung 
forcibly ta the ground, and my rifle, falling close to my 
head, went off with the shock. Its sharp, spiteful report 
rang for some moments in my ear. Being slightly stunned, 
I lay for an instant motionless, and Reynal, supposing 
me to be shot, rode up and began to curse the mule. Soon 
recovering myself, I arose, picked up the rifle and anxiously 
examined it. It w^as badly injured. The stock was 
cracked, and the main screw broken, so that the lock had 
to be tied in its place with a string; yet happily it was 
not rendered totally unserviceable. I wiped it out, re- 
loaded it, and handing it to Reynal, who meanwhile had 
caught the mule and led her up to me, I mounted again. 
No sooner had I done so, than the brute began to rear and 
plunge with extreme violence ; but being now well prepared 
for her, and free from incumbrance, I soon reduced her to 



234 THE OREGON TRAIL 

submission. Then taking the rifle again from Reynal, we 
galloped forward as before. 

We were now free of the mountains and riding far out on 
the broad prairie. The buffalo were still some two miles in 
advance of us. When we came near them, we stopped 
where a gentle swell of the plain concealed us, and while 
I held his horse Reynal ran forward with his rifle, till I 
lost sight of him beyond the rising ground. A few minutes 
elapsed : I heard the report of his piece, and saw the buffalo 
running away, at full speed on the right; immediately 
after, the hunter himself, unsuccessful as before, came 
"up and mounted his horse in excessive ill-humor. He 
cursed the Black Hills and the buffalo, swore that he was 
a good hunter, which indeed was true, and that he had never 
been out before among those mountains without killing two 
or three deer at least. 

We now turned towards the distant encampment. As 
we rode along, antelope in considerable numbers were flying 
lightly in all directions over the plain, but not one of them 
would stand and be shot at. When we reached the foot of 
the mountain-ridge that lay between us and the village, we 
were too impatient to take the smooth and circuitous route ; 
so turning short to the left, we drove our wearied animals 
upward among the rocks. Still more antelope were leaping 
about among these flinty hill-sides. Each of us shot at one, 
though from a great distance, and each missed his mark. 
At length we reached the summit of the last ridge. Look- 
ing down we saw the bustling camp in the valley at our feet, 
and ingloriously descended to it. As we rode among the 
lodges, the Indians looked in vain for the fresh meat that 
should have hung behind our saddles, and the squaws ut- 
tered various suppressed ejaculations, to the great indigna- 
tion of Reynal. Our mortification was increased when we 
rode up to his lodge. Here we saw his young Indian rela- 
tive, the Hail-Storm, his light graceful figure reclining on 
the ground in an easy attitude, while with his friend The 
Rabbit, who sat by his side, he was making an abundant 
meal from a wooden bowl of wasna, which the squaw had 



A MOUNTAIN HUNT 235 

placed between them. Near him lay the fresh skin of a 
female elk, which he had just killed among the mountains, 
only a mile or two from the camp. No doubt the boy's 
heart was elated with triumph, but he betrayed no sign of 
it. He even seemed totally unconscious of our approach, 
and his handsome face had all the tranquillity of Indian 
self-control ; a self-control which prevents the exhibition of 
emotion without restraining the emotion itself. 

It was about two months since I had known the Hail- 
Storm, and within that time his character had remarkably 
developed. When I first saw him, he was just emerging 
from the habits and feelings of the boy into the ambition 
of the hunter and warrior. He had lately killed his first 
deer, and this had excited his aspirations for distinction. 
Since that time he had been continually in search of game, 
and no young hunter in the village had been so active or 
so fortunate as he. All this success had produced a marked 
change in his character. As I first remembered him he 
always shunned the society of the young squaws, and was 
extremely bashful and sheepish in their presence ; but now, 
in the confidence of his own reputation, he began to assume 
the airs and arts of a man of gallantry. He wore his red 
blanket dashingly over his left shoulder, painted his cheeks 
every day with vermilion, and hung pendants of shells in 
his ears. If I observed aright, he met with very good suc- 
cess in his new pursuits ; still the Hail-Storm had much to 
accomplish before he attained the full standing of a warrior. 
Gallantly as he began to bear himself among the women and 
girls, he was still timid and abashed in the presence of the 
chiefs and old men ; for he had never yet killed a man, or 
stricken the dead body of an enemy in battle. I have no 
doubt that the handsome, smooth-faced boy burned with de- 
sire to flesh his maiden scalping-knife, and I would not have 
encamped alone with him without watching his movements 
with a distrustful eye. 

His elder brother. The Horse, was of a different char- 
acter. He was nothing but a lazy dandy. He knew very 
well how to hunt, but preferred to live by the hunting of 



236 THE OREGON TRAIL 

others. He had no appetite for distinction, and the Hail- 
Storm already surpassed him in reputation. He had a 
dark and ugly face, and passed a great part of his time in 
adorning it with vermilion, and contemplating it by means 
of a little pocket looking-glass which I had given him. As 
for the rest of the day, he divided it between eating, sleep- 
ing, and sitting in the sun on the outside of a lodge. Here 
he would remain for hour after hour, arrayed in all his 
finery, with an old dragoon's sword in his hand, evidently 
flattering himself that he was the centre of attraction to the 
eyes of the surrounding: squaws. Yet he sat looking straight 
forward with a face of the utmost gravity, as if wrapped 
in profound meditation, and it w^as only by the occasional 
sidelong glances which he shot at his supposed admirers 
that one could detect the true course of his thoughts. 

Both he and his brother may represent a class in the 
Indian community: neither should the Hail-Storm's friend, 
The Rabbit, be passed by without notice. The Hail-Storm 
and he were inseparable: they ate, slept, and hunted to- 
gether, and shared with one another almost all that they 
possessed. If there be any thing that deserves to be called 
romantic in the Indian character, it is to be sought for in 
friendships such as this, which are common among many 
of the prairie tribes. 

Slowly, hour after hour, that weary afternoon dragged 
away. I lay in Reynal's lodge, overcome by the listless 
torpor that pervaded the encampment. The day's w^ork 
was finished, or if it were not, the inhabitants had re- 
solved not to finish it at all, and were dozing quietly within 
the shelter of the lodges. A profound lethargy, the very 
spirit of indolence, seemed to have sunk upon the village. 
Now and then I could hear the low laughter of some girl 
from within a neighboring lodge, or the small shrill voices 
of a few restless children, who alone were moving in the 
deserted area. The spirit of the place infected me ; I could 
not think consecutively, I was fit only for musing and 
reverie, when at last, like the rest, I fell asleep. 

When evening came, and the fires were lighted round 



A MOUNTAIN HUNT 237 

the lodges, a select family circle convened in the neigh- 
borhood of Reynal 's domicile. It was composed entirely of 
his squaw 's relatives, a mean and ignoble clan, among whom 
none but the Hail-Storm held forth any promise of future 
distinction. Even his prospects were rendered not a little 
dubious by the character of the family, less however from 
any principle of aristocratic distinction than from the want 
of powerful supporters to assist him in his undertakings, 
and help to avenge his quarrels. Raymond and I sat down 
along with them. There were eight or ten men gathered 
around the fire, together with about as many women, old 
and young, some of whom were tolerably good-looking. As 
the pipe passed round among the men, a lively conversation 
w^ent forward, more merry than delicate, and at length two 
or three of the elder women (for the girls were somewhat 
diffident and bashful) began to assail Rajauond with various 
pungent witticisms. Some of the men took part, and an 
old squaw concluded by bestowing on him a ludicrous and 
indecent nickname, at which a general laugh followed at his 
expense. Raymond grinned and giggled, and made several 
futile attempts at repartee. Knowing the impolicy and 
even danger of suffering myself to be placed in a ludicrous 
light among the Indians, I maintained a rigid inflexible 
countenance, and wholly escaped their sallies. 

In the morning I found, to my great disgust, that the 
camp was to retain its position for another day. I dreaded 
its languor and monotony, and to escape it, set out to ex- 
plore the surrounding mountains. I was accompanied by 
a faithful friend, my rifle, the only friend indeed on whose 
prompt assistance in time of trouble I could implicitly rely. 
Most of the Indians in the village, it is true, professed good- 
will towards the whites, but the experience of others and 
my own observation had taught me the extreme folly of 
confidence, and the utter impossibility of foreseeing to what 
sudden acts the strange unbridled impulses of an Indian 
may urge him. When among this people danger is never 
so near as when you are unprepared for it, never so remote 
as when you are armed and on the alert to meet it at any 



238 THE OREGON TRAIL 

moment. Nothing offers so strong a temptation to their 
ferocious instincts as the appearance of timidity, weakness^ 
or insecurity. 

Many deep and gloomy gorges, choked with trees and 
bushes, opened from the sides of the hills, which were shaggy 
with forests wherever the rocks permitted vegetation to 
spring. A great number of Indians were stalking along 
the edges of the woods, and boys were whooping and laugh- 
ing on the mountains, practising eye and hand, and indulg- 
ing their destructive propensities by killing birds and small 
animals with their little bows and arrows. There was one 
glen, stretching up between steep cliffs far into the bosom 
of the mountain. I began to ascend along its bottom, push- 
ing my way onward among the rocks, trees, and bushes that 
obstructed it. A slender thread of water trickled along 
its center, which, since issuing from its native rock could 
scarcely have been warmed or gladdened by a ray of sun- 
shine. After advancing for some time, I conceived my- 
self to be entirely alone ; but coming to a part of the glen 
in a great measure free of trees and undergrowth, I saw at 
some distance the black head and red shoulders of an Indian 
among the bushes above. The reader need not prepare him- 
self for a startling adventure, for I have none to relate. 
The head and shoulders belonged to Mene-Seela, my best 
friend in the village. As I had approached noiselessly with 
my moccasined feet, the old man was quite unconscious of 
my presence ; and turning to a point where I could gain an 
unobstructed view of him, I saw him seated alone, im- 
movable as a statue, among the rocks and trees. His face 
was turned upward, and his eyes seemed riveted on a pine- 
tree springing from a cleft in the precipice above. The 
crest of the pine was swaying to and fro in the wind, and 
its long limbs waved slowly up and down, as if the tree had 
life. 

Looking for a while at the old man, I was satisfied that he 
was engaged in an act of worship, or prayer, or communion 
of some kind with a supernatural being. I longed to pene- 
trate his thoughts, but I could do nothing more than con- 



A MOUNTAIN HUNT 239 

jecture and speculate. I knew that though the intellect of 
an Indian can embrace the idea of an all-wise, all-powerful 
Spirit, the supreme Ruler of the universe, yet his mind will 
not always ascend into communion with a being that seems 
to him so vast, remote, and incomprehensible; and when 
danger threatens, when his hopes are broken, and sorrow 
overshadows him, he is prone to turn for relief to some in- 
ferior agency, less removed from the ordinary scope of his 
faculties. He has a guardian spirit, on whom he relies for 
succor and guidance. To him all nature is instinct with 
mystic influence. Among those mountains not a wild beast 
was prowling, a bird singing, or a leaf fluttering, that might 
not tend to direct his destiny, or give warning of what was 
in store for him ; and he watches the world of nature around 
him as the astrologer watches the stars. So closely is he 
linked with it, that his guardian spirit, no unsubstantial 
creation of the fancy, is usually embodied in the form of 
some living thing : a iDcar, a wolf, an eagle, or a serpent ; and 
Mene-Seela, as he gazed on the old pine-tree, might believe 
it to inshrine the fancied guide and protector of his life. 
Whatever was passing in the mind of the old man, it 
was no part of good sense to disturb him. Silently retrac- 
ing my footsteps, I descended the glen until I came to a 
point where I could climb the precipices that shut it in, 
and gain the side of the mountain. Looking up, I saw 
a tall peak rising among the woods. Something impelled 
me to climb ; I had not felt for many a day such strength 
and elasticity of limb. An hour and a half of slow and 
often intermitted labor brought me to the very summit; 
and emerging from the dark shadows of the rocks and 
pines, I stepped forth into the light, and walking along 
the sunny verge of a precipice, seated myself on its extreme 
point. Looking between the mountain-peaks to the west- 
ward, the pale blue prairie was stretching to the farthest 
horizon, like a serene and tranquil ocean. The surrounding 
mountains were in themselves sufficiently striking and im- 
pressive, but this contrast gave redoubled effect to their 
stern features. 



CHAPTER XIX 

PASSAGE OF THE MOUNTAINS 

When I took leave of Shaw at La Bonte's camp, I prom- 
ised to meet him at Fort Laramie on the first of August. 
The plans of the Indians coincided very well with my own. 
They, too, intended to pass the mountains and move to- 
wards the fort. To do so at this point was impossible, be- 
cause there was no opening ; and in order to find a passage, 
we were obliged to go twelve or fourteen miles southward. 
Late in the afternoon the camp got in motion. I rode in 
company with three or four young Indians at the rear, 
and the moving swarm stretched before me, in the ruddy 
light of sunset, or the deep shadow of the mountains, far 
beyond my sight. It was an ill-omened spot they chose 
to "^encamp upon. When they were there just a year be- 
fore, a war-party of ten men, led by The Whirlwind 's son, 
had gone out against the enemy, and not one had ever re- 
turned. This was the immediate cause of this season's 
warlike preparations. I was not a little astonished, when 
I came to the camp, at the confusion of horrible sounds 
with which it was filled ; howls, shrieks, and wailings were 
heard from all the women, many of whom, not content 
with this exhibition of grief for the loss of their friends 
and relatives, were gashing their legs deeply with knives. 
A warrior in the village, who had lost a brother in the 
expedition, chose another mode of displaying his sorrow. 
The Indians, who though often rapacious, are devoid of 
avarice, are accustomed on solemn occasions, to give away 
the whole of their possessions, and reduce themselves to 
nakedness and Avant. The warrior in question led his two 
best horses into the center of the village, and gave them 
away to his friends; upon which, songs and acclamations 

240 



PASSAGE OF THE MOUNTAINS 241 

in praise of his generosity mingled with the cries of the 
women. 

On the next morning we entered again among the moun- 
tains. There was nothing in their appearance either grand 
or picturesque, though they were desolate to the last degree, 
being mere piles of black and broken rocks, without trees 
or vegetation of any kind. As we passed among them along 
a wide valley, I notice Raymond riding by the side of a 
young squaw, to whom he was addressing various compli- 
ments. All the old squaws in the neighborhood watched his 
proceedings in great admiration, and the girl herself would 
turn aside her head and laugh. Just then his mule thought 
proper to display her vicious pranks, and began to rear and 
plunge most furiously. Raymond was an excellent rider, 
and at first he stuck fast in his seat ; but the moment after, 
I saw the mule's hind-legs flourishing in the air, and my 
unlucky follower pitching head foremost over her ears. 
There was a burst of screams and laughter from all the 
women, in which his mistress herself took part, and Ray- 
mond was assailed by such a shower of witticisms, that he 
was glad to ride forward out of hearing. 

Not long after, as I rode near him, I heard him shout- 
ing to me. He was pointing towards a detached rocky 
hill that stood in the middle of the valley before us, and 
from behind it a long file of elk came out at full speed and 
entered an opening in the mountain. They had scarcely 
disappeared, when whoops and exclamations came from 
fifty voices around me. The young men leaped from their 
horses, flung down their heavy bufPalo-robes, and ran at 
full speed towards the foot of the nearest mountain. Rey- 
nal also broke away at a gallop in the same direction. 
' ' Come on ! come on ! " he called to us. ' ' Do you see that 
band of big-horn up yonder? If there's one of them, 
there 's a hundred ! ' ' 

In fact, near the summit of the mountain, I could see a 
large number of small white objects, moving rapidly up- 
wards among the precipices, while others were filing along 
its rocky profile. Anxious to see the sport, I galloped for- 



242 THE OREGON TRAIL 

ward, and entering a passage in the side of the mountain, 
ascended among the loose rocks as far as my horse could 
carry me. Here I fastened her to an old pine-tree. At 
that moment Raymond called to me from the right that 
another band of sheep was close at hand in that direction. 
I ran up to the top of the opening, which gave me a full 
view into the rocky gorge beyond; and here I plainly saw 
some fifty or sixty sheep, almost within rifle-shot, clat- 
tering upwards among the rocks, and endeavoring, after 
their usual custom, to reach the highest point. The naked 
Indians bounded up lightly in pursuit. In a moment the 
game and hunters disappeared. Nothing could be seen 
or heard but the occasional report of a gun, more and 
more distant, reverberating among the rocks. 

I turned to descend, and as I did so, could see the valley 
below alive with Indians passing rapidly through it, on 
horseback and on foot. A little farther on, all were stop- 
ping as they came up ; the camp was preparing and the 
lodges rising. I descended to this spot, and soon after 
Reynal and Raymond returned. They bore between them 
a sheep which they had pelted to death with stones from 
the edge of a ravine, along the bottom of which it was 
attempting to escape. One by one the hunters came drop- 
ping in; yet such is the activity of the Rocky Mountain 
sheep that although sixty or seventy men were out in 
pursuit, not more than half a dozen animals were killed. 
Of these only one was a full-grown male. He had a pair 
of horns, the dimensions of which were almost beyond 
belief. I have seen among the Indians ladles with long 
handles, capable of containing more than a quart, cut out 
from such horns. 

Through the whole of the next morning we were mov- 
ing forward among the hills. On the following day the 
heights closed around us, and the passage of the mountains 
began in earnest. Before the village left its camping- 
ground, I set forward in company with the Eagle-Feather, 
a man of powerful frame, but with a bad and sinister face. 
His son, a light-limbed boy, rode with us, and another 



PASSAGE OF THE MOUNTAINS 243 

Indian, named The Panther, was also of the party. Leav- 
ing the village out of sight behind us we rode together 
up a rocky defile. After a while, however, the Eagle- 
Feather discovered in the distance some appearance of 
game, and set off with his son in pursuit of it, while I 
went forward with The Panther. This was a mere nom 
de guerre; ^ for, like many Indians, he concealed his real 
name out of some superstitious notion. He was a noble- 
looking fellow. As he suffered his ornamented buffalo- 
robe to fall in folds about his loins, his stately and graceful 
figure was fully displayed ; and while he sat his horse in 
an easy attitude, the long feathers of the prairie-cock 
fluttering from the crown of his head, he seemed the very 
model of a wild prairie-rider. He had not the same 
features with those of other Indians. Unless his face 
greatly belied him, he was free from the jealousy, sus- 
picion, and malignant cunning of his people. For the most 
part, a civilized white man can discover very few points 
of sympathy between his own nature and that of an In- 
dian. With every disposition to do justice to their good 
qualities, he must be conscious that an impassable gulf 
lies between him and his red brethren. Nay, so alien to 
himself do they appear, that, after breathing the air of 
the prairie for a few months or weeks, he begins to look 
upon them as a troublesome and dangerous species of wild 
beast. Yet, in the countenance of The Panther, I gladly 
read that there were at least some points of sympathy be- 
tween him and me. "We were excellent friends, and as we 
rode forward together through rocky passages, deep dells, 
and little barren plains, he occupied himself very zealously 
in teaching me the Dahcotah language. After a while, we 
came to a grassy recess, where some gooseberry-bushes were 
growing at the foot of a rock: and these offered such 
temptation to my companion, that he gave over his instruc- 
tions, and stopped so long to gather the fruit, that before 
we were in motion again the van of the village came in 
view. An old woman appeared, leading down her pack- 

1 An assumed name. 



244 THE OREGON TRAIL 

horse among the rocks above. Savage after savage fol- 
lowed, and the little dell was soon crowded with the throng. 

That morning's march was one not to be forgotten. It 
led us through a sublime waste, a wilderness of mountains 
and pine-forests, over which the spirit of loneliness and 
silence seemed brooding. Above and below, little could be 
seen but the same dark green foliage. It overspread the 
valleys, and the mountains were clothed with it, from the 
black rocks that crowned their summits to the streams that 
circled round their base. I rode to the top of a hill, and 
from this point I could look down on the savage procession 
as it passed beneath my feet, and, far on the left, could 
see its thin and broken line, visible only at intervals, 
stretching away for miles among the mountains. On the 
farthest ridge, horsemen w^ere still descending like mere 
specks in the distance. 

I remained on the hill until all had passed, and then 
descending followed after them. A little farther on I 
found a very small meadow, set deeply among steep 
mountains ; and here the whole village had encamped. The 
little spot was crowded with the confused and disorderly 
host. Some of the lodges were completed, or the squaws 
perhaps were busy in drawing the heavy coverings of 
skin over the bare poles. Others were as yet mere skele- 
tons, while others still, poles, covering and all, lay scat- 
tered in disorder on the ground among buffalo-robes, 
bales of meat, domestic utensils, harness, and weapons. 
Squaws were screaming to one another, horses rearing and 
plunging, dogs yelping, eager to be disburdened of their 
loads, while the fluttering of feathers and the gleam of bar- 
baric ornaments added liveliness to the scene. The small 
children ran about amid the crowd, while many of the boys 
were scrambling among the overhanging rocks, and stand- 
ing with their little bows in their hands, looking down upon 
the restless throng. In contrast with the general confu- 
sion, a circle of old men and warriors sat in the midst, 
smoking in profound indifference and tranquillity. The 



PASSAGE OF THE MOUNTAINS 245 

disorder at length subsided. The horses were driven away 
to feed along the adjacent valley, and the camp assumed an 
air of listless repose. It was scarcely past noon; a vast 
white canopy of smoke from a burning forest to the east- 
ward overhung the place, and partially obscured the rays 
of the sun; yet the heat was almost insupportable. The 
lodges stood crowded together without order in the 
narrow space. Each was a hot-house, within which the 
lazy proprietor lay sleeping. 

The camp was silent as death. Nothing stirred except 
now and then an old woman passing from lodge to lodge. 
The girls and young men sat together in groups, under 
the pine-trees upon the surrounding heights. The dogs 
lay panting on the ground, too lazy even to growl at 
the white man. At the entrance of the meadow, there 
was a cold spring among the rocks, completely over- 
shadowed by tall trees and dense undergrowth. In this 
cool and shady retreat a number of girls w^re assembled, 
sitting together on rocks and fallen logs, discussing the 
latest gossip of the village, or laughing and throwing 
water with their hands at the intruding Meneaska. The 
minutes seemed lengthened into hours. I lay for a long 
time under a tree studying the Ogillallah tongue, with the 
zealous instructions of my friend The Panther. AVhen we 
w^ere both tired of this, I lay down by the side of a deep, 
clear pool, formed by the water of the spring. A shoal of 
little fishes of about a pin's length were playing in it, 
sporting together, as it seemed, very amicably; but on 
closer observation, I saw that they were engaged in can- 
nibal warfare among themselves. Now and then a small 
one would fall a victim, and immediately disappear down 
the maw of his conqueror. Every moment, however, the 
tyrant of the pool, a monster about three inches long, 
Avith staring goggle-eyes, would slowly issue forth with 
quivering fins and tail from under the shelving bank. 
The small fry at this would suspend their hostilities, and 
scatter in a panic at the appearance of overwhelming force. 



246 THE OREGON TRAIL 

^ *' Soft-hearted philanthropists/' thought I, ''may sigh 
long for their peaceful millennium; for, from minnows to 
men, life is an incessant battle." 

Evening approached at last; the tall mountain tops 
were still bright in sunshine while our deep glen was com- 
pletely shadowed. I left the camp, and ascended a neigh- 
boring hill. The sun was still glaring through the stiff 
pines on the ridge of the western mountain. In a moment 
he was gone, and, as the landscape darkened, I turned again 
towards the village. As I descended, the howling of wolves 
and the barking of foxes came up out of the dim w^oods 
from far and near. The camp was glowing w^ith a multi- 
tude of fires, and alive with dusky naked figures, whose 
tall shadows flitted among the surrounding crags. 

I found a circle of smokers seated in their usual place; 
that is, on the ground before the lodge of a certain war- 
rior, who seemed to be generally known for his social 
qualities. I sat down to smoke a parting pipe with my 
savage friends. That day was the first of August, on 
which I had promised to meet Shaw at Fort Laramie. 
The fort w^as less than two day's journey distant, and that 
my friend need not suffer anxiety on my account, I re- 
solved to push forward as rapidly as possible to the place 
of meeting. I went to look after the Hail-Storm, and 
having found him, I offered him a handful of hawks '- 
bells and a paper of vermilion, on condition that he would 
guide me in the morning through the mountains. 

The Hail-Storm ejaculated ''How!" and accepted the 
gift. Nothing more was said on either side; the matter 
was settled, and I lay down to sleep in Kongra-Tonga's 
lodge. 

Long before daylight, Raymond shook me by the 
shoulder. 

"Every thing is ready," he said. 

I went out. The morning was chill, damp, and dark; 
and the whole camp seemed asleep. The Hail-Storm sat 
on horseback before the lodge, and my mare Pauline and 
the mule which Raymond rode were picketed near it. 



PASSAGE OF THE MOUNTAINS 247 

We saddled and made our other arrangements for the 
journey, but before these were completed the camp began 
to stir, and the lodge-coverings fluttered and rustled as 
the squaws pulled them down in preparation for depart- 
ure. Just as the light began to appear, we left the 
ground, passing up through a narrow opening among the 
rocks which led eastward out of the meadow. Gaining 
the top of this passage, I turned and sat looking back 
upon the camp, dimly visible in the gray light of morn- 
ing. All was alive with the bustle of preparation. I 
turned away, half unwilling to take a final leave of my 
savage associates. We passed among rocks and pine- 
trees so dark, that for a w^hile we could scarcely see our 
way. The country in front was wild and broken, half 
hill, half plain, partly open and partly covered with woods 
of pine and oak. Barriers of lofty mountains encom- 
passed it; the woods were fresh and cool in the early 
morning, the peaks of the mountains were wreathed with 
mist, and sluggish vapors were entangled among the 
forests upon their sides. At length the black pinnacle of 
the tallest mountain w^as tipped with gold by the rising 
sun. The Hail-Storm, who rode in front, gave a low ex- 
clamation. Some large animal leaped up from among the 
bushes, and an elk, as I thought, his horns thrown back 
over his neck, darted past us across the open space, and 
bounded like a mad thing away among the adjoining pines. 
Raymond was soon out of his saddle, but before he could 
fire, the animal was full two hundred yards distant. The 
ball struck its mark, though much too low for mortal 
effect. The elk, however, wheeled in his flight, and ran at 
full speed among the trees, nearly at right angles to his 
former course. I fired and broke his shoulder; still he 
moved on, limping down into a neighboring woody hollow, 
■whither the young Indian followed and killed him. When 
w^e reached the spot, we discovered him to be no elk, but 
a black-tailed deer, an animal nearly twice the size of the 
common deer, and quite unknown in the east. 

The reports of the rifles had reached the ears of the In- 



248 THE OEEGON TRAIL 

clians, and several of them came to the spot. Leaving the 
hide of the deer to the Hail-Storm, we hung as much of 
the meat as we wanted behind our saddles, left the rest 
to the Indians, and resumed our journey. Meanwhile 
the village was on its way, and had gone so far that to get 
in advance of it was impossible. We directed our course 
so as to strike its line of march at the nearest point. In 
a short time, through the dark trunks of the pines, we 
could see the figures of the Indians as they passed. Once 
more we were among them. They were moving with even 
more than their usual precipitation, crowded together in a 
narrow^ pass between rocks and old pine-trees. We were on 
the eastern descent of the mountain, and soon came to a 
rough and difficult defile, leading down a very steep de- 
clivity. The whole swarm poured down together, tilling 
the rocky passage-way like some turbulent mountain- 
stream. The mountains before us were on fire, and had 
been so for wrecks. The view in front was obscured by a 
vast dim sea of smoke, while on either hand the tall cliffs, 
bearing aloft their crests of pines, thrust their heads boldly 
through it, and the sharp pinnacles and broken ridges of 
the mountains beyond were faintly traceable as through a 
veil. The scene in itself was grand and imposing, but 
with the savage multitude, the armed warriors, the naked 
children, the gayly apparelled girls, pouring impetuously 
down the heights, it would have formed a noble subject 
for a painter, and only the pen of a Scott could have done 
it justice in description. 

We passed over a burnt tract where the ground was hot 
beneath the horses' feet, and between the blazing sides of 
two mountains. Before long we had descended to a softer 
region, where we found a succession of little valleys watered 
by a stream, along the borders of which grew abundance of 
wild gooseberries and currants, and the children and many 
of the men straggled from the line of march to gather 
them as we passed along. Descending still farther, the view 
changed rapidly. The burning mountains were behind us, 
and through the open valleys in front we could see the 



PASSAGE OF THE MOUNTAINS 249 

ocean-like prairie, stretching; be^^ond the sight. After pass- 
ing through a line of trees that skirted the brook, the 
Indians filed out upon the plains. I was thirsty and knelt 
down by the little stream to drink. As I mounted again, 
I very carelessly left my rifle among the grass, and my 
thoughts being otherwise absorbed, I rode for some dis- 
tance before discovering its absence. I lost no time in 
turning about and galloping back in search of it. Pass- 
ing the line of Indians, I watched every warrior as he rode 
by me at a canter, and at length discovered my rifle in the 
hands of one of them, who, on my approaching to claim it, 
immediately gave it up. Having no other means of 
acknowledging the obligation, I took off one of my spurs 
and gave it to him. He was greatly delighted, looking 
upon it as a distinguished mark of favor, and immediately 
held out his foot for me to buckle it on. As soon as I 
had done so, he struck it with all his force into the side 
of his horse, which gave a violent leap. The Indian 
laughed and spurred harder than before. At this the horse 
shot away like an arrow, amid the screams and laughter of 
the squaws, and the ejaculations of the men, who ex- 
claimed: ''Washtay! — Good!" at the potent effect of my 
gift. The Indian had no saddle, and nothing in place of 
a bridle except a leather string tied round the horse's jaw. 
The animal was of course wholly uncontrollable, and 
stretched away at full speed over the prairie, till he and 
his rider vanished behind a distant swell. I never saw the 
man again, but T presume no harm came to him. An In- 
dian on horseback has more lives than a cat. 

The village encamped on the scorching prairie, close 
to the foot of the mountains. The heat was most intense 
and penetrating. The coverings of the lodgings were 
raised a foot or more from the ground, in order to pro- 
cure some circulation of air; and Reynal thought proper 
to lay aside his trapper's dress of buckskin and assume 
the very scanty costume of an Indian. Thus elegantly 
attired, he stretched himself in his lodge on a buffalo-robe, 
alternately cursing the heat and puffing at the pipe which 



250 THE OREGON TRAIL 

he and I passed between ns. There was present also a 
select circle of Indian friends and relatives. A small 
boiled puppy was served up as a parting feast, to which 
was added, by way of dessert, a wooden bowl of goose- 
berries from the mountains. 

'^Look there," said Reynal, pointing out of the opening 
of his lodge ; "do you see that line of buttes about fifteen 
miles off? Well, now do you see that farthest one, with 
the white speck on the face of it? Do you think you ever 
saw it before?" 

"It looks to me," said I, "like the hill that we were 
camped under when we were on Laramie Creek, six or 
eight weeks ago." 

"You've hit it," answered Reynal. 

"Go and bring in the animals, Raymond," said I; 
*^we'll camp there to-night, and start for the fort in the 
morning. ' ' 

The mare and the mule were soon before the lodge. 
We saddled them, and in the mean time a number of 
Indians collected about us. The virtues of Pauline, my 
strong, fleet, and hardy little mare, were well known in 
camp, and several of the visitors were mounted upon 
good horses which they had brought me as presents. I 
promptly declined their offers, since accepting them would 
have involved the necessity of transferring Pauline into 
their barbarous hands. We took leave of Reynal, but not 
of the Indians, who are accustomed to dispense with such 
superfluous ceremonies. Leaving the c&mp, we rode 
straight over the prairie towards the white-faced bluff, 
whose pale ridges swelled gently against the horizon, like 
a cloud. An Indian went with us, whose name I forget, 
though the ugliness of his face and the ghastly width of 
his mouth dwell vividly in my recollection. The antelope 
were numerous, but we did not heed them. We rode 
directly towards our destination, over the arid plains and 
barren hills; until, late in the afternoon, half spent with 
heat, thirst, and fatigue, we saw a gladdening sight : the 
long line of trees and the deep gulf that mark the course 



PASSAGE OF THE MOUNTAINS 251 

of Laramie Creek. Passing through, the growth of huge 
dilapidated old cotton-wood trees that bordered the creek, 
we rode across to the other side. The rapid and foaming 
waters were filled with fish playing and splashing in the 
shallows. As we gained the farther bank, our horses 
turned eagerly to drink, and we, kneeling on the sand, 
followed their example. We had not gone far before the 
scene began to grow familiar. 

"We are getting near home, Raymond," said I. 

There stood the big tree under which we had encamped 
so long; there were the white cliffs that used to look 
down upon our tent when it stood at the bend of the 
creek; there was the meadow in which our horses had 
grazed for weeks, and a little farther on, the prairie-dog 
village Avhere I had beguiled many a languid hour in per- 
secuting the unfortunate inhabitants. 

''We are going to catch it now," said Raymond, turn- 
ing his broad face up towards the sky. 

In truth the cliffs and the meadow, the stream and the 
groves, were darkening fast. Black masses of cloud were 
swelling up in the south, and the thunder was growling 
ominously. 

"We will camp there," I said, pointing to a dense, 
grove of trees lower down the stream. Raymond and I 
turned towards it, but the Indian stopped and called 
earnestly after us. When we demanded what was the 
matter, he said, that the ghosts of two warriors were 
always among those trees, and that if we slept there, they 
would scream and throw stones at us all night, and per- 
haps steal our horses before morning. Thinking it as 
well to humor him, we left behind us the haunt of these 
extraordinary ghosts, and passed on towards Chugwater, 
riding at full gallop, for the big drops began to patter 
down. Soon we came in sight of the poplar saplings that 
grew about the mouth of the little stream. We leaped to 
the ground, threw off our saddles, turned our horses loose, 
and drawing our knives began to slash among the bushes 
to cut twigs and branches for making a shelter against the 



252 THE OREGON TRAIL 

rain. Bending down the taller saplings as they grew, 
we piled the young shoots upon them, and thus made a 
convenient pent-house ; but our labor was needless. The 
storm scarcely touched us. Half a mile on our right the 
rain w^as pouring down like a cataract, and the thunder 
roared over the prairie like a battery of cannon ; while we 
by good fortune received only a few heavy drops from the 
skirt of the passing cloud. 

The w^eather cleared and the sun set gloriously. Sitting 
close under our leafy canopy, we proceeded to discuss a 
substantial meal of wasna which Weah-Washtay had given 
me. The Indian had brought with him his pipe and a 
bag of sJiongsasha; so before lying down to sleep, we sat for 
some time smoking together. Previously, however, our 
wide-mouthed friend had taken the precaution of carefully 
examining the neighborhood. He reported that eight men, 
counting them on his fingers, had been encamped there 
not long before, — Bisonette, Paul Dorion, Antoine Le 
Rouge, Eichardson, and four others, whose names he could 
not tell. All this proved strictly correct. By w^hat in- 
stinct he had arrived at such accurate conclusions, I am 
utterly at a loss to divine. 

It was still quite dark when I awoke and called Ray- 
mond. The Indian was already gone, having chosen to go 
on before us to the fort. Setting out after him, we rode 
for some time in complete darkness, and when the sun at 
length rose, glowing like a fiery ball of copper, we were 
ten miles distant from the fort. At length, from the sum- 
mit of a sandy bluff we could see Fort Laramie, miles be- 
fore us, standing by the side of the stream like a little gray 
speck, in the midst of the boundless desolation. I stopped 
my horse, and sat for a moment looking down upon it. 
It seemed to me the very centre of comfort and civiliza- 
tion. We were not long in approaching it, for we rode at 
speed the greater part of the way. Laramie Creek still 
intervened between us and the friendly walls. Entering 
the water at the point where Ave had struck upon the bank, 
w^e raised our feet to the saddle behind us, and thus kneel- 



PASSAGE OF THE MOUNTAINS 253 

ing as it were on horseback, passed dry-shod through the 
swift current. As we rode up the bank, a number of men 
appeared in the gateway. Three of them came forward 
to meet us. In a moment I distinguished Shaw; Henry 
Chatillon followed, with his face of manly simplicity and 
frankness, and Deslauriers came last, with a broad grin 
of welcome. The meeting was not on either side one of 
mere ceremony. For my OAvn part, the change was a 
most agreeable one, from the society of savages and men 
little better than savages, to that of my gallant and high- 
minded companion, and our noble-hearted guide. My ap- 
pearance was equally gratifying to Shaw, who was begin- 
ning to entertain some very uncomfortable surmises con- 
cerning me. 

Bordeaux greeted me cordially, and shouted to the cook. 
This functionary was a new acquisition, having lately come 
from Fort Pierre with the trading wagons. Whatever 
skill he might have boasted, he had not the most promising 
materials to exercise it upon. He set before me, however, 
a breakfast of biscuit, coffee, and salt pork. It seemed 
like a new phase of existence, to be seated once more on a 
bench, with a knife and fork, a plate and teacup, and 
something resembling a table before me. The coffee seemed 
delicious, and the bread was a most welcome novelty, since 
for three weeks I had eaten scarcely any thing but meat, 
and that for the most part without salt. The meal also 
had the relish of good company, for opposite to me sat 
Shaw in elegant dishabille. If one is anxious thoroughly 
to appreciate the value of a congenial companion, he has 
only to spend a few weeks by himself in an Ogillallah vil- 
lage. And if he can contrive to add to his seclusion, a 
debilitating and somewhat critical illness, his perceptions 
upon this subject will be rendered considerably more vivid. 

Shaw had been upward of two weeks at the fort. I found 
him established in his old quarters, a large apartment 
usually occupied by the absent bourgeois. In one comer 
was a soft pile of excellent buffalo-robes, and here I lay 
down. Shaw brought me three books. 



254 THE OREGON TRAIL 

' ' Here, ' ' said he, / ' is your Shakspeare and Byron, and 
here is the Old Testament, which has as much poetry in it 
as the other two put together." 

I chose the worst of the three,- and for the greater part 
of that day I lay on the buffalo-robes, fairly revelling in 
the creations of that resplendent genius which has 
achieved no more signal triumph than that of half beguil- 
ing us to forget the unmanly character of its possessor. 

2 The author of Mazeppa, 



CHAPTER XX 

THE LONELY JOURNEY 

On the day of my arrival at Fort Laramie, Shaw and 
I were lounging on two buffalo-robes in the large apart- 
ment hospitably assigned to us; Henry Chatillon also was 
present, busy about the harness and weapons, which had 
been brought into the room, and two or three Indians were 
crouching on the floor, eying us with their fixed unwaver- 
ing gaze. 

"I have been well off here," said Shaw, ''in all respects 
but one; there is no good shongsasha to be had for love 
or money." 

I gave him a small leather bag containing some of ex- 
cellent quality, which I had brought from the Black Hills. 
"Now, Henry," said he, "hand me Papin's chopping- 
board, or give it to that Indian, and let him cut the mix- 
ture; they understand it better than any white man." 

The Indian, without saying a word, mixed the bark and 
the tobacco in due proportions, filled the pipe, and lighted 
it. This done, my companion and I proceeded to delib- 
erate on our future course of proceeding; first, however, 
Shaw acquainted me with some incidents which had oc- 
curred at the fort during my absence. 

About a w^eek previous, four men had arrived from be- 
yond the mountains: Sublette,^ Reddick, and two others. 
Just before reaching the fort, they had met a large party of 
Indians, chiefly young men. All of them belonged to the 
village of our old friend Smoke, who, with his whole band 

1 There were two men of this name prominent in the fur trade. 
William w^as one of the original partners of the Rocky Monntain 
Fur Co. in 1830. His brother was named Milton. Parkman speaks 
of this man later as one of some position. 

255 



256 THE OREGON TRAIL 

of adherents, professed the greatest friendship for the 
whites. The travelers therefore approached and began to 
converse without the least suspicion. Suddenly, however, 
their bridles were seized, and they were ordered to dis- 
mount. Instead of complying, they struck their horses, 
and broke away from the Indians. As they galloped off 
they heard a yell behind them, with a burst of derisive 
laughter, and the reports of several guns. None of them 
was hurt, though Reddick's bridle-rein was cut by a bullet 
within an inch of his hand. After this taste of Indian 
hostility, they felt for the moment no disposition to en- 
counter farther risks. They intended to pursue the route 
southward along the foot of the mountains to Bent 's Fort ; 
and as our plans coincided with theirs, they proposed to 
join forces. Finding, however, that I did not return, they 
grew impatient of inaction, forgot their late danger, and 
set out without us, promising to wait our arrival at Bent's 
Fort. From thence we were to make the long journey 
to the settlements in company, as the path was not a 
little dangerous, being infested by hostile Pawnees and 
Comanches. 

AVe expected, on reaching Bent's Fort, to find there 
still another reinforcement. A young Kentuckian had 
come out to the mountains with Russel's party of Califor- 
nia emigrants. One of his chief objects, as he gave out, 
was to kill an Indian; an exploit which he afterwards 
succeeded in achieving, much to the jeopardy of ourselves 
and others who had to pass through the country of the 
dead Pawnee's enraged relatives. Having become dis- 
gusted with his emigrant associates, he left them, and had 
some time before set out with a party of companions for 
the head of the Arkansas. He left us a letter, to say that 
he would wait until we arrived at Bent's Fort, and accom- 
pany us thence to the settlements. When however he came 
to the fort, he found there a party of forty men about to 
make the homeward journey. He wisely preferred to avail 
himself of so strong an escort. Sublette and his compan- 
ions also set out in order to overtake this company; so that 



THE LONELY JOURNEY 257 

on reaching Bent's Fort, some six weeks after, we found 
ourselves deserted by our allies and thrown once more 
upon our own resources. 

On the fourth of August, early in the afternoon, we 
bade a final adieu to the hospitable gateway of the fort. 
Again Shaw and I were riding side by side on the 
prairie. For the first fifty miles we had companions 
with us: Troche, a trapper, and Eouville, a nondescript 
in the employ of the Fur Company, who were going to 
join the trader Bisonette at his encampment near the head 
of Horse Creek.^ We rode only six or eight miles that 
afternoon before we came to a little brook traversing the 
barren prairie. All along its course grew copses of young 
wild-cherry trees, loaded with ripe fruit, and almost con- 
cealing the gliding thread of water with their dense growth. 
Here we encamped; and being too indolent to pitch our 
tent, we flung our saddles on the ground, spread a pair of 
buffalo-robes, lay down upon them, and began to smoke. 
Meanwhile Deslauriers busied himself with his frying-pan, 
and Eaymond stood guard over the band of grazing horses. 
Deslauriers had an active assistant in Rouville, who pro- 
fessed great skill in the culinary art, and, seizing upon a 
fork, began to lend his aid in getting supper ready. Ac- 
cording to his own belief, Rouville was a man of universal 
knowledge, and he lost no opportunity to display his mani- 
fold accomplishments. He had been a circus-rider at St. 
Louis, and once he rode round Fort Laramie on his head, to 
the utter bewilderment of the Indians. He was also noted 
as the wit of the fort; and as he had considerable humor 
and abundant vivacity, he contributed more that night to 
the liveliness of the camp than all the rest of the party 
put together. At one instant he would kneel by Deslaur- 
iers, instructing him in the true method of frying 
antelope-steaks, then he would come and seat himself at 
our side, dilating upon the orthodox fashion of braiding up 

2 Horse Creek flows into the PLatte from the Southwest. The 
point they wished to strike was about thirty miles southeast of 
Fort Laramie. 



258 THE OREGON TKAIL 

a horse's tail, telling apocryphal stories how he had killed 
a buffalo-bull with a knife, having first cut off' his tail 
when at full speed, or relating w^himsical anecdotes of the 
hoicrgeois Papin. At last he snatched up a volume of 
Shakspeare that was lying on the grass, and halted and 
stumbled through a line or two to prove that he could 
read. He went gamboling about the camp, chattering like 
some frolicsome ape; and whatever he was doing at one 
moment, the presumption was a sure one that he would 
not be doing it the next. His companion Troche sat .si- 
lently on the grass, not speaking a word, but keeping a 
vigilant eye on a very ugly little Utah squaw, of whom he 
was extremely jealous. 

On the next day we traveled farther, crossing the wide 
sterile basin called ' ' Goche 's Hole. ' ' ^ Towards night we 
became involved among ravines; and being unable to find 
water, our journey was protracted to a very late hour. 
On the next morning we had to pass a long line of bluffs, 
whose raw sides, wrought upon by rains and storms, were 
of a ghastly whiteness most oppressive to the sight. As 
we ascended a gap in these hills, the way was marked by 
huge foot-prints, like those of a human giant. They 
were the tracks of the grizzly bear, of which we had also 
seen abundance on the day before. Immediately after 
this we were crossing a barren plain, spreading in long 
and gentle undulations to the horizon. Though the sun 
was bright, therQ was a light haze in the atmosphere. 
The distant hills assumed strange, distorted forms, and 
the edge of the horizon was continually changing its 
aspect. Shaw and I were riding together, and Henry 
Chatillon was a few rods before us. He stopped his 
horse suddenly, and turning round with the peculiar 
earnest expression which he always wore when excited, 
called us to come forward. We galloped to his side. 
Henry pointed towards a black speck on the gray swell 
of the prairie, apparently about a mile off. ''It must 
be a bear," said he; "come, now we shall all have some 

3 Now Goshen Hole. " Hole " was a Western name for valley. 



THE LONELY JOURNEY 259 

sport. Better fun to fight him than to fight an old buffalo- 
bull; grizzly bear so strong and smart." 

So we all galloped forward together, prepared for a hard 
fight; for these bears, though clumsy in appearance, are 
incredibly fierce and active. The swell of the prairie con- 
cealed the black object from our view. Immediately after 
it appeared again. But now it seemed quite near to us; 
and as we looked at it in astonishment, it suddenly 
separated into two parts, each of which took wing and 
flew away. We stopped our horses and looked at Henry, 
whose face exhibited a curious mixture of mirth and 
mortification. His eye had been so completely deceived 
by the peculiar atmosphere, that he had mistaken two 
large crows at the distance of fifty rods for a grizzly bear 
a mile off. To the journey's end Henry never heard the 
last of the grizzly bear with wings. 

In the afternoon we came to the foot of a considerable 
hill. As we ascended it, Rouville began to ask questions 
concerning our condition and prospects at home, and 
Shaw was edifying him with an account of an imaginary 
wife and child, to which he listened with implicit faith. 
Beaching the top of the hill, we saw the windings of 
Horse Creek on the plains below us, and a little on the 
left we could distinguish the camp of Bisonette among' 
the trees and copses along the course of the stream. 
Rouville 's face assumed just then a ludicrously blank 
expression. We inquired what was the matter; when it 
appeared that Bisonette had sent him from this place to 
Fort Laramie with the sole object of bringing back a sup- 
ply of tobacco. Our rattlebrain friend, from the time of 
his reaching the fort up to the present moment, had en- 
tirely forgotten the object of his journey, and had ridden 
a. dangerous hundred miles for nothing. Descending to 
Horse Creek, we forded it, and on the opposite bank a 
solitary Indian sat on horseback under a tree. He said 
nothing, but turned and led the way towards the camp. 
Bisonette had made choice of an admirable position. 
The stream, with its thick growth of trees, inclosed on 



260 THE OREGON TRAIL 

three sides a wide green meadow, where about forty Dah- 
cotah lodges were pitched in a circle, and beyond them 
several lodges of the friendly Shiennes.^ Bisonette himself 
lived in the Indian manner. Riding up to his lodge, we 
found him seated at the head of it, surrounded by various 
appliances of comfort not common on the prairie. His 
squaw was near him, and rosy children were scrambling 
about in printed calico gowns; Paul Dorion, also, with 
his leathery face and old white capote, was seated in the 
lodge, together with Antoine Le Rouge, a half-breed Paw- 
nee, Sibille, a trader, and several other white men. 

"It will do you no harm," said Bisonette, ''to stay here 
with us for a day or two, before you start for the Pueblo. ' ' 

We accepted the invitation, and pitched our tent on a 
rising ground above the camp and close to the trees, 
Bisonette soon invited us to a feast, and we suffered 
abundance of the same sort of attention from his Indian 
associates. The reader may possibly recollect that when 
I joined the Indian village, beyond the Black Hills, I 
found that a few families were absent, having declined to 
pass the mountains along with the rest. The Indians in 
Bisonette 's camp consisted of these very families, and 
many of them came to me that evening to inquire after 
their relatives and friends. They were not a little morti- 
fied to learn that while they, from their own timidity and 
indolence, were almost in a starving condition, the rest 
of the village had provided their lodges for the next sea- 
son, laid in a great stock of provisions, and were living 
in abundance. Bisonette 's companions had been sustain- 
ing themselves for some time on wild cherries, which the 
squaws pounded, stones and all, and spread on buffalo- 
robes to dry in the sun; they were then eaten without 
farther preparation, or used as an ingredient in various 
delectable compounds. 

On the next day, the camp was in commotion y>rith a 
new arrival. A single Indian had come with his family 

4 An Indian family of Algonquin stock. One of the most western 
tribes of that family. 



THE LONELY JOURNEY 261 

from the Arkansas. As he passed among the lodges, he 
put in an expression of unusual dignity and importance, 
and gave out that he had brought great news to tell the 
whites. Soon after the squaws had pitched his lodge, he 
sent his little son to invite all the white men, and all the 
more distinguished Indians to a feast. The guests arrived 
and sat wedged together, shoulder to shoulder, within the 
hot and suffocating lodge. The Stabber, for that was our 
entertainer's name, had killed an old buffalo-bull on his: 
way. This veteran's boiled tripe, tougher than leather,, 
formed the main item of the repast. For the rest, it con- 
sisted of wild cherries and grease boiled together in a large 
copper kettle. The feast w^as distributed, and for a mo- 
ment all w^as silent, strenuous exertion ; then each guesV 
though with one or two exceptions, turned his wooden dish 
bottom upwards to prove that he had done full justice to 
his entertainer's hospitality. The Stabber next produced 
his chopping-board, on which he prepared the mixture for 
smoking, and filled several pipes, which circulated among 
the company. This done, he seated himself upright on 
his couch, and began with much gesticulation to tell his 
story. I will not repeat his childish jargon. It was so 
entangled, like the greater part of an Indian 's stories, with 
absurd and contradictory details, that it was almost im- 
possible to disengage from it a single particle of truth. 
All that we could gather was the following: — 

He had been on the Arkansas, and there he had seen 
six great war-parties of whites. He had never believed 
before that the whole world contained half so many white 
men. They all had large horses, long knives, and short 
rifles, and some of them w^ere attired alike in the most 
splendid war-dresses he had ever seen. From this account 
it was clear that bodies of dragoons and perhaps also of 
volunteer cavalry had passed up the Arkansas. The 
Stabber had also seen a great many of the white lodges 
of the Meneaska, drawn by their long-horned buffalo. 
These could be nothing else than covered ox-wagons used 
no doubt in transporting stores for the troops. Soon after 



^262 THE OREGON TRAIL 

seeing this, our host had met an Indian who had lately 
come from among the Comanches. The latter had told 
him that all the Mexicans had gone out to a great buffalo 
hunt; that the Americans had hid themselves in a ravine. 
When the Mexicans had shot away all their arrows, the 
Americans fired their guns, raised their war-whoop, rushed 
out, and killed them all. We could only infer from this 
that war had been declared with Mexico, and a battle 
fought in which the Americans were victorious. When, 
some weeks after, we arrived at the Pueblo, we heard of 
General Kearney's march up the Arkansas, and of Gen- 
eral Taylor's victories at Matamoras.^ 

As the sun was setting that evening a crowd gathered 
on the plain by the side of our tent, to try the speed of 
their horses. These were of every shape, size and color. 
Some came from California, some from the States, some 
from among the mountains, and some from the wild bands 
of the prairie. They were of every hue, white, black, red, 
and gray, or mottled and clouded with a strange variety 
of colors. They all had a wild and startled look, very 
different from the sober aspect of a well-bred city steed. 
Those most noted for swiftness and spirit w^ere decorated 
with eagle feathers dangling from their manes and tails. 
Fifty or sixty Dahcotah were present, wrapped from head 
to foot in their heavy robes of w^hitened hide. There 
were also a considerable number of the Shiennes, many 
of whom wore gaudy Mexican ponchos, swathed around 
their shoulders, but leaving the right arm bare. Mingled 
among the crowd of Indians was a number of Canadians, 
chiefly in the employ of Bisonette; men, whose home is 
the wilderness, and who love the camp-fire better than the 
domestic hearth. They are contented and happy in the 
midst of hardship, privation, and danger. Their cheer- 
fulness and gayety is irrepressible, and no people on earth 
understand better how "to doff the world aside and bid 
it pass." Besides these, were two or three half-breeds, a 

5 Matamoras is a Mexican town on the Rio Grande, taken by 
Gen, Taylor, May 18, 184G. 



THE LONELY JOURNEY 263 

race of rather extraordinary composition, being according 
to the common saying half Indian, half white man, and 
half devil. Antoine Le Rouge was the most conspicuous 
among them, with his loose trousers and fluttering calico 
shirt. A handkerchief was bound round his head to con- 
fine his black snaky hair, aiad his small eyes twinkled 
beneath it with a mischievous lustre. He had a fine 
cream-colored horse, whose speed he must needs try along 
with the rest. So he threw off the rude high-peaked 
saddle, and substituting a piece of buifalo-robe, leaped 
lightly into his seat. The space was cleared, the word 
was given, and he and his Indian rival, darted out like 
lightning from among the crowd, each stretching forward 
over his horse 's neck and plying his heavy Indian whip with 
might and main. A moment, and both were lost in the 
gloom ; but Antoine soon came riding back victoriously, ex- 
ultingly patting the neck of his quivering and panting 
horse. 

About midnight, as I lay asleep, wrapped in a buffalo- 
robe on the ground by the side of our cart, Raymond 
came and woke me. Something he said was going for- 
ward which I would like to see. Looking down into the 
camp, I saw on the farther side of it a great number of 
Indians gathered about a fire, the bright glare of which 
made them visible through the thick darkness; while from 
the midst proceeded a loud, measured chant which would 
have killed Paganini ^ outright, broken occasionally by a 
burst of sharp yells. I gathered the robe around me, for 
the night was cold, and walked down to the spot. The 
dark throng of Indians was so dense that they almost in- 
tercepted the light of the flame. As I was pushing among 
them with little ceremony, a chief interposed himself, and 
I w^as given to understand that a white man must not ap- 
proach the scene of their solemnities too closely. By 
passing round to th*e other side where there was a little 
opening in the crowd, I could see clearly what was going 
forward, without intruding my unhallowed presence into 

6 The most famous violinist of modern times, 1782-1840. 



264 THE OREGON TEAIL 

the inner circle. The society of the "Strong Hearts" were 
engaged in one of their dances. The "Strong Hearts" are 
a warlike association, comprising men of both the Dahcotah 
and Shienne nations, and composed entirely, or supposed 
to be so, of young braves of the highest mettle. Its funda- 
mental principle is the admirable one of never retreating 
from any enterprise once begun. All these Indian associa- 
tions have a tutelary spirit. That of the Strong Hearts is 
embodied in the fox, an animal which white men would 
hardly have selected for a similar purpose, though his 
subtle character agrees well enough with an Indian's no- 
tions of what is honorable in warfare. The dancers were 
circling round and round the fire, each figure brightly il- 
lumined at one moment by the yellow light, and at the next 
drawn in blackest shadow as it passed between the flame 
and the spectator. They would imitate with the most 
ludicrous exactness the motions and voice of their sly patron 
the fox. Then a startling yell would be given. Many 
other warriors would leap into the ring, and with faces 
upturned towards the starless sky, they would all stamp, 
and whoop, and brandish their weapons like so many fran- 
tic devils. 

We remained with Bisonette till the next afternoon. 
My companion and I with our three attendants then left 
his camp for the Pueblo, and we supposed the journey 
would occupy about a fortnight. During this time we 
all hoped that we might not meet a single human being, 
for should we encounter any, they would in all probability 
be enemies, in whose eyes our rifles would be our only 
passports. For the first two daj^s nothing worth mention- 
ing took place. On the third morning, however, an un- 
toward incident occurred. We were encamped by the side 
of a little brook in an extensive hollow of the plain. 
Deslauriers was up long before daylight, and before he 
began to prepare breakfast he turned loose all the horses, 
as in duty bound. There was a cold mist clinging close 
to the ground, and by the time the rest of us were awake 
the animals were invisible. It was only after a long and 



THE LONELY JOURNEY 265 

anxious search that we could discover by their tracks the 
direction the}^ had taken. They had all set off for Fort 
Laramie, following the guidance of a mutinous old mule, 
and though many of them were hobbled, they had traveled 
three miles before they could be overtaken and driven 
back. 

For two or tliree days, w^e were passing over an arid 
desert. The only vegetation was a few tufts of short grass, 
dried and shriveled by the heat. There was an abundance 
of strange insects and reptiles. Huge crickets, black and 
bottle green, and wingless grasshoppers of the most ex- 
travagant dimensions, were tumbling about our horses' 
feet, and lizards without number darting like lightning 
among the tufts of grass. The most curious animal, how- 
ever, was that commonly called the horned-frog. I caught 
one of them and consigned him to the care of Deslauriers, 
who tied him up in a moccasin. About a month after this, 
I examined the prisoner's condition, and finding him still 
lively and active, I provided him with a cage of buffalo- 
hide, which was hung up in the cart. In this manner he 
arrived safely at the settlements. From thence he travelled 
the whole way to Boston, packed closely in a trunk, be- 
ing regaled with fresh air regularly every night. When 
he reached his destination he was deposited under a glass 
case, where he sat for some months in great tranquillity, 
alternately dilating and contracting his white throat to 
the admiration of his visitors. At length, one morning 
about the middle of winter, he gave up the ghost. His 
death was attributed to starvation, a very probable con- 
clusion, since for six months he had taken no food what- 
ever, though the sympathy of his juvenile admirers had 
tempted his palate with a great variety of delicacies. We 
found also animals of a somewhat larger growth. The 
number of prairie dogs was astounding. Frequently the 
hard and dry prairie was thickly covered, for miles to- 
gether, with the little mounds which they make at the 
mouth of their burrows, and small squeaking voices yelped 
at us, as we passed along. The noses of the inhabitants 



266 THE OREGON TRAIL 

were just visible at the mouth of their holes, but no sooner 
was their curiosity satisfied than they would instantly van- 
ish. Some of the bolder dogs — though in fact they are no 
dogs at all, but little marmots ^ rather smaller than a rabbit 
• — would sit yelping at us on the top of their mounds, jerking 
their tails emphatically with every shrill cry they uttered. 
As the danger drew nearer they would wheel about, toss 
their heels into the air, and dive in a twinkling into their 
burrows. Towards sunset, and especially if rain was threat- 
ening, the whole community made their appearance above 
ground. We saw them gathered in large knots around 
the burrow of some favorite citizen. There they would 
all sit erect, their tails spread out on the ground, and their 
paws hanging down before their white breasts, chattering 
and squeaking with the utmost vivacity upon some topic 
of common interest, while the proprietor of the burrow sat 
on the top of his mound looking down with a complacent 
countenance on the enjoyment of his guests. Meanwhile, 
others ran from burrow to burrow, as if on some errand 
of the last importance to their subterranean common- 
wealth. The snakes are apparently the prairie-dog's worst 
enemies; at least I think too well of the latter to suppose 
that they associate on friendly terms with these slimy in- 
truders, which may be seen at all times basking among their 
holes, into which they always retreat when disturbed. 
Small owls, with wise and grave countenances, also make 
their abode with the prairie-dogs, though on what terms 
they live together I could never ascertain. 

On the fifth day after leaving Bisonette's camp, we saw, 
late in the afternoon, what we supposed to be a consider- 
able stream, but on approaching it, we found to our mor- 
tification nothing but a dry bed of sand, into which the 
water had sunk and disappeared. We separated, some rid- 
ing in one direction and some in another, along its course. 
Still we found no traces of water, not even so much as a 
wet spot in the sand. The old cotton-wood trees that grew 

7 The marmot is a family of burrowing rodents; the woodchnck 
is one species, tlie prairie-dog another. 



THE LONELY JOUEXEY 267 

along the bank, lamentably abused by lightning, and tem- 
pest, were withering with the drought, and on the dead 
limbs, at the summit of the tallest, half a dozen crows were 
hoarsely cawing, like birds of evil omen. We had no alter- 
native but to keep on. There was no water nearer than 
the South Fork of the Platte, about ten miles distant. We 
moved forward, angry and silent, over a desert as flat as 
the outspread ocean. 

The sky had been obscured since the morning by thin 
mists and vapors, but now vast piles of clouds were gath- 
ered together in the west. They rose to a great height 
above the horizon, and looking up at them I distinguished 
one mass darker than the rest, and of a peculiar conical 
form. I happened to look again, and still could see it as 
before. At some moments it was dimly seen, at others 
its outline was sharp and distinct; but while the clouds 
around it were shifting, changing, and dissolving away, it 
still towered aloft in the midst of them, fixed and immov- 
able. It must, thought I, be the summit of a mountain; 
and yet its height staggered me. My conclusion was right, 
however. It was Long's Peak,^ once believed to be one 
of the highest of the Rocky Mountain chain, though more 
recent discoveries have proved the contrary. The thicken- 
ing gloom soon hid it from view, and we never saw it again, 
for on the following day, and for some time after, the air 
was so full of mist that the view of distant objects was 
intercepted. 

It grew very late. Turning from our direct course, we 
made for the river at its nearest point, though in the utter 
"darkness it was not easy to direct our w^ay with much pre- 
cision. Raymond rode on one side and Henry on the other. 
We heard each of them shouting that he had come upon 
a deep ravine. We steered at random between Scylla and 
Charybdis/ and soon after became as it seemed inextricably 

8 It is 14,270 feet high. It is named after Col. Long, who visited 
it in 1818. 

9 In old legend the Straits of Messina had on one side a whirlpool 
named Charybdis, while on the other was a monster named Seylla 
who caught and devoured the mariners who ventured too near. 



268 THE OREGON TRAIL 

involved with deep chasms all round us, while the dark- 
ness was such that we could not see a rod in any direction. 
We partially extricated ourselves by scrambling, cart and 
all, through a shallow ravine. We came next to a steep 
descent, down which we plunged without well knowing what 
was at the bottom. There was a great cracking of sticks 
and dry twigs. Over our heads were certain large shadowy 
objects ; and in front something like the faint gleaming of 
a dark sheet of water. Raymond ran his horse against a 
tree; Henry alighted, and, feeling on the ground, de- 
clared that there was grass enough for the horses. Before 
taking off his saddle, each man led his own horses down 
to the water in the best way he could. Then picketing 
two or three of the evil-disposed, we turned the rest loose, 
and lay down among the dry sticks to sleep. 

In the morning we found ourselves close to the South 
Fork of the Platte, on a spot surrounded by bushes and 
rank grass. Compensating ourselves with a hearty break- 
fast, for the ill-fare of the previous night, we set forward 
again on our journey. When only two or three rods from 
the camp I saw Shaw stop his mule, level his gun, and fire 
at some object in the grass. Deslauriers next jumped for- 
ward, and began to dance about, belaboring the unseen 
enemy with a whip. Then he stooped down, and drew out of 
the grass by the neck an enormous rattlesnake, with his head 
completely shattered by Shaw 's bullet. As Deslauriers held 
him out at arm's length with an exulting grin, his tail, 
which still kept slowly writhing about, almost touched the 
ground, and his body in the largest part was as thick 
as a stout man's arm. He had fourteen rattles, but the 
end of his tail was blunted, as if he could once have boasted 
of many more. From this time till we reached the Pueblo, 
we killed at least four or five of these snakes every day, as 
they lay coiled and rattling on the hot sand. Shaw was 
the Saint Patrick of the party, and whenever he killed a 
snake he pulled off his tail and stored it away in his bul- 
let-pouch, which was soon crammed with an edifying col- 
lection of rattles, great and small. Deslauriers with his 



THE LONELY JOURNEY 269 

whip also came in for a share of praise. A day or two 
after this, he triumphantly produced a small snake about 
a span and a half long, with one infant rattle at the end of 
his tail. 

We forded the South Fork of the Platte. On its farther 
bank were the traces of a very large camp of Arapahoes. 
The ashes of some three hundred fires were visible among 
the scattered trees, together with the remains of sweating 
lodges/^ and all the other appurtenances of a permanent 
camp. The place, however, had been for some months de- 
serted. A few miles farther on we found more recent signs 
of Indians ; the trail of two or three lodges, which had evi- 
dently passed the day before ; every footprint was perfectly 
distinct in the dry, dusty soil. We noticed in particular the 
track of one moccasin, upon the sole of which its economical 
proprietor had placed a large patch. These signs gave us 
but little uneasiness, as the number of the warriors scarcely 
exceeded that of our own party. At noon we rested under 
the walls of a large fort, built in these solitudes some years 
since by M. St. Vrain. It Avas now abandoned and fast 
falling into ruin. The walls of unbaked bricks w^ere 
cracked from top to bottom. Our horses recoiled in terror 
from the neglected entrance, where the heavy gates were 
torn from their hinges and flung down. The area within 
was overgrown with w^eeds, and the long ranges of apart- 
ments once occupied by the motley concourse of traders, 
Canadians, and squaws, w^ere now miserably dilapidated. 
Twelve miles farther on, near the spot where we encamped, 
were the remains of another fort, standing in melancholy 
desertion and neglect. 

Early on the following morning w^e made a startling dis- 
covery. We passed close by a large deserted encampment 
of Arapahoes. There were about fifty fires still smoulder- 
ing on the ground, and it was evident from numerous signs 
that the Indians must have left the place within two hours 
of our reaching it. Their trail crossed our own, at right 

10 Almost all the American Indians used these sweating lodges, 
after which they would plunge into cold water. 



270 THE OREGON TRAIL 

angles, and led in the direction of a line of hills, half a 
mile on our left. There were women and children in the 
party, which would have greatly diminished the danger 
of encountering them. Henry Chatillon examined the en- 
campment and the trail with a very professional and bus- 
iness-like air. 

''Supposing we had met them, Henry?" said I. 

''Why," said he, "we hold out our hands to them, and 
give them all we've got; they take away every thing, and 
then I believe they no kill us. Perhaps, ' ' added he, looking 
up with a quiet unchanged face, "perhaps we no let them 
rob us. Maybe before they come near, we have a chance 
to get into a ravine, or under the bank of the river; then, 
you know, we fight them. ' ' 

About noon on that day we reached Cherry Creek..^^ 
Here was a great abundance of wild-cherries, plums, goose- 
berries, and currants. The stream, however, like most of 
the others which we passed, was dried up with the heat, and 
w^e had to dig holes in the sand to find water for our- 
selves and our horses. Two days after, we left the banks 
of the creek, which we had been following for some time, 
and began to cross the high dividing ridge which separates 
the waters of the Platte from those of the Arkansas. The 
scenery was altogether changed. In place of the burning 
plains, we passed through rough and savage glens, and 
among hills crowned with a dreary growth of pines. We 
encamped among these solitudes on the night of the six- 
teenth of August. A tempest was threatening. The sun 
went down among volumes of jet black cloud, edged with a 
bloody red. But in spite of these portentous signs, we 
neglected to put up the tent, and, being extremely 
fatigued, lay down on the ground and fell asleep. The 
storm broke about midnight, and we pitched the tent amid 
darkness and confusion. In the morning all was fair again, 
and Pike's Peak, white with snow, was towering above the 
wilderness afar off. 

11 Cherry Creek flows into the South Fork of the Platte near the 
spot where Denver now stands. 



THE LONELY JOURNEY 271 

We passed through an extensive tract of pine woods. 
Large black-squirrels were leaping among the branches. 
From the farther edge of this forest we saw the prairie 
again, hollowed out before us into a vast basin, and about 
a mile in front we could discern a little black speck mov- 
ing upon its surface. It could be nothing but a buffalo. 
Henry primed his rifle afresh and galloped forward. To 
the left of the animal was a low rocky mound, of which 
Henry availed himself in making his approach. After a 
short time we heard the faint report of the rifle. The bull, 
mortally wounded from a distance of nearly three hundred 
yards, ran wildly round and round in a circle. Shaw and 
I then galloped forward, and passing him as he ran, foaming 
with rage and pain, discharged our pistols into his side. 
Once or twice he rushed furiously upon us, but his strength 
was rapidly exhausted. Down he fell on his knees. For 
one instant he glared up at his enemies, with burning eyes, 
through his black tangled mane, and then rolled over on his 
side. Though gaunt and thin, he was larger and heavier 
than the largest ox. Foam and blood flew together from 
his nostrils as he lay bellowing and pawing the ground, 
tearing up grass and earth with his hoofs. His sides rose 
and fell like a vast pair of bellows, the blood spouting up 
in jets from the bullet-holes. Suddenly his glaring eyes 
became like a lifeless jelly. He lay motionless on the 
ground. Henry stooped over him, and, making an incision 
with his knife, pronounced the meat too rank and tough 
for use ; so disappointed in our hopes of an addition to our 
stock of provisions, we rode away and left the carcass to 
the wolves. 

In the afternoon we saw the mountains rising like a 
gigantic wall at no great distance on our right. "Des 
sauvages! des sauvages!" exclaimed Deslauriers, looking 
round with a frightened face, and pointing with his whip 
towards the foot of the mountains. In fact, we could see 
at a distance a number of little black specks, like horse- 
men in rapid motion. Henry Chatillon, with Shaw and 
myself, galloped towards them to reconnoitre, when to our 



272 THE OREGON TRAIL 

amusement we saw the supposed Arapahoes resolved into 
the black tops of some pine-trees which grew along a ravine. 
The summits of these pines, just visible above the verge 
of the prairie, and seeming to move as we ourselves were 
advancing, looked exactly like a line of horsemen. 

We encamped among ravines and hollows, through which 
a little brook was foaming angrily. Before sunrise in the 
morning the snow-covered mountains were beautifully 
tinged with a delicate rose color. A noble spectacle awaited 
us as we moved forward. Six or eight miles on our 
right. Pike's Peak and his giant brethren rose out of the 
level prairie, as if springing from the bed of the ocean. 
Fl-om their summits down to the plain below they were 
involved in a mantle of clouds, in restless motion, as if 
urged by strong winds. For one instant some snowy peak, 
towering in awful solitude, would be disclosed to view. As 
the clouds broke along the mountain, we could see the 
dreary forests, the tremendous precipices, the white patches 
of snow, the gulfs and chasms as black as night, all re- 
vealed for an instant, and then disappearing from the view. 

On the day after, we had left the mountains at some 
distance. A black cloud descended upon them, and a 
tremendous explosion of thunder followed, reverberating 
among the precipices. In a few moments every thing grew 
black, and the rain poured down like a cataract. We got 
under an old cotton-wood tree, which stood by the side of 
a stream, and waited there till the rage of the torrent had 
passed. 

The clouds opened at the point where they first had 
gathered, and the whole sublime congregation of moun- 
tains was bathed at once in warm sunshine. They seemed 
more like some vision of eastern romance than like a reality 
of that wilderness ; all were melted together into a soft de- 
licious blue, as voluptuous as the sky of Naples or the 
transparent sea that washes the sunny cliffs of Capri. On 
the left the sky was still of an inky blackness ; but two con- 
centric rainbows stood in bright relief against it, while 



THE LOXELY JOURNEY 273 

far in front the ragged clouds still streamed before the 
wind, and the retreating thunder muttered angrily. 

Through that afternoon and the next morning we were 
passing down the banks of the stream, called "Boiling 
Spring Creek," ^- from the boiling spring whose waters 
flow into it. When we stopped at noon, we were within six 
or eight miles of the Pueblo. Setting out again, we found 
by the fresh tracks that a horseman had just been out to 
reconnoitre us; he had circled half round the camp, and 
then galloped back at full speed for the Pueblo. AVhat 
made him so shy of us we could not conceive. After an 
hour's ride we reached the edge of a hill, from which a 
welcome sight greeted us. The Arkansas ran along the 
vallej^ below, among woods and groves, and closely nestled 
in the midst of wide cornfields and green meadows, where 
cattle were grazing, rose the low mud walls of the Pueblo. 

12 The Boiling Spring River flows into the Arkansas at Pueblo. 



CHAPTER XXI 

THE PUEBLO AND BENT 'S FORT 

We approached the gate of the Pueblo.^ It was a 
wretched species of fort, of most primitive construction, 
being nothing more than a large square inclosure, sur- 
rounded by a wall of mud, miserably cracked and dilapi- 
dated. The slender pickets that surmounted it were half 
broken down, and the gate dangled on its wooden hinges 
so loosely, that to open or shut it seemed likely to fling it 
down altogether. Two or three squalid Mexicans, with 
their broad hats, and their vile faces overgrown with hair, 
were lounging about the bank of the river in front of it. 
They disappeared as they saw us approach; and as we 
rode up to the gate, a light active little figure came out to 
meet us. It was our old friend Richard. He had come 
from Fort Laramie on a trading expedition to Taos ; - but 
finding when he reached the Pueblo that the war would pre- 
vent his going farther, he was quietly waiting till the con- 
quest of the country should allow him to proceed. He 
seemed to feel bound to do the honors of the place. Shak- 
ing us warmly by the hand, he led the way into the area. 

Here we saw his large Santa Fe wagons standing together. 
A few squaws and Spanish women, and a few ]\Iexicans, as 
mean and miserable as the place itself, were lazily saunter- 
ing about. Richard conducted us to the state apartment of 
the Pueblo, a small mud room, very neatly finished, con- 
sidering the material, and garnished with a crucifix, a look- 
ing-glass, a picture of the Virgin, and a rusty horse-pistol. 
There were no chairs, but instead of them a number of 

1 Pueblo is now a considerable city, the centre of the iron industry 
in Colorado. 

2 In New Mexico to the north of Santa Fe. 

274 



THE PUEBLO AND BENT'S FORT 275 

chests and boxes ranged about the room. There was another 
room beyond, less sumptuonsly decorated, and here three 
or four Spanish girls, one of them very pretty, were bak- 
ing cakes at a mud fire-place in the corner. They brought 
out a poncho, which they spread upon the floor by way of 
table-cloth. A supper, which seemed to us luxurious, was 
soon laid out upon it, and folded buffalo-robes were placed 
around it to receive the guests. Two or three Americans 
besides ourselves were present. We sat down in Turkish 
fashion, and began to ask the news. Richard told us that, 
about three weeks before, General Kearney's army had left 
Bent's Fort to march against Santa Fe;^ that when last 
heard from they were approaching the defiles that led to 
the city. One of the Americans produced a dingy news- 
paper, containing an account of the battles of Palo Alto 
and Eesaca de la Palma.^ While we were discussing these 
matters, the doorway was darkened by a tall, shambling 
fellow, who stood with his hands in his pockets taking a 
leisurely survey of the premises before he entered. He 
wore brown homespun trousers, much too short for his legs, 
and a pistol and bowie knife stuck in his belt. His head 
and one eye were enveloped in a huge bandage of linen. 
Having completed his observations, he came slouching in, 
and sat down on a chest. Eight or ten more of the same 
stamp followed, and very coolly arranging themselves about 
the room, began to stare at the company. We were forcibly 
reminded of the Oregon emigrants, though these unwel- 
come visitors had a certain glitter of the eye, and a com- 
pression of the lips, which distinguished them from our old 
acquaintances of the prairie. They began to catechise us 
at once, inquiring whence we had come, what we meant 
to do next, and what were our prospects in life. 

The man with the bandaged head had met with an un- 
toward accident a few days before. He was going down 
to the river to bring water, and was pushing through the 
young willows which covered the low ground when he came 

3 Gen. Kearney had started towards the end of July. 

4 Early battles of the Mexican war, fought May 8 and 9, 1846. 



276 THE OREGON TRAIL 

unawares upon a grizzly bear, which, having just eaten 
a buffalo-bull, had lain down to sleep off the meal. The 
bear rose on his hind legs, and gave the intruder such a 
blow with his paw that he laid his forehead entirely bare, 
clawed off the front of his scalp, and narrowly missed one 
of his eyes. Fortunately the bear was not in a very pugna- 
cious mood, being surfeited with his late meal. The man's 
companions, who were close behind, raised a shout, and 
the bear walked away, crushing down the willows in his 
leisurely retreat. 

These men belonged to a party of Mormons,^ who, out of 
a well-grounded fear of the other emigrants, had postponed 
leaving the settlements until all the rest were gone. On 
account of this delay, they did not reach Fort Laramie 
until it was too late to continue their journey to California. 
Hearing that there was good land at the head of the 
Arkansas, they crossed over under the guidance of Rich- 
ard, and were now preparing to spend the winter at a spot 
about half a mile from the Pueblo. 

When we took leave of Richard it was near sunset. 
Passing out of the gate, we could look down the little 
valley of the Arkansas; a beautiful scene, and doubly so 
to our eyes, so long accustomed to deserts and mountains. 
Tall woods lined the river, with green meadows on either 
hand; and high bluffs, quietly basking in the sunlight, 
flanked the narrow valley. A Mexican on horseback was 
driving a herd of cattle towards the gate, and our little 
white tent, which the men had pitched under a tree in 
the meadow, made a pleasing feature in the scene. When 
we reached it, we found that Richard had sent a Mexican 
to bring us an abundant supply of green corn and vege- 
tables, and invited us to help ourselves to whatever we 
wanted from the fields around the Pueblo. 

The inhabitants were in daily apprehension of an in- 
road from more formidable consumers than we. Every 
year, at the time when the corn begins to ripen, the Arapa- 

5 The Mormons had not yet settled Salt Lake City. 



THE PUEBLO AND BENT'S FORT 277 

hoes, to the number of several thousands, come and en- 
camp around the Pueblo. The handful of white, men, who 
are entirely at the mercy of this swarm of barbarians, 
choose to make a merit of necessity; they come forward 
very cordially, shake them by the hand, and intimate that 
the harvest is entirely at their disposal. The Arapahoes 
take them at their word, help themselves most liberally, 
and usually turn their horses into the cornfields afterwards. 
They have the foresight, however, to leave enough of the 
crops untouched to serve as an inducement for planting the 
fields again for their benefit in the next spring. 

The human race in this part of the world is separated 
into three divisions, arranged in the order of their merits: 
white men, Indians and Mexicans; to the latter of whom 
the honorable title of '' whites" is by no means conceded. 

In spite of the warm sunset of that evening the next 
morning was a dreary and cheerless one. It rained steadily, 
clouds resting upon the very tree-tops. "We crossed the 
river to visit the Mormon settlement. As we passed through 
the water several trappers on horseback entered it from the 
other side. Their buckskin frocks were soaked through 
by the rain, and clung fast to their limbs with a most 
clammy and uncomfortable look. The water was trickling 
down their faces, and dropping from the ends of their rifles 
and from the traps which each carried at the pommel of 
his saddle. Horses and all had a disconsolate and woe- 
begone appearance, which we could not help laughing at, 
forgetting how often we ourselves had been in a similar 
plight. 

After half an hour's riding, we saw the white wagons of 
the Mormons drawn up among the trees. Axes were sound- 
ing, trees falling, and log-huts going up along the edge of 
the woods and upon the adjoining meadow. As we came 
up, the Mormons left their work, seated themselves on the 
timber around us, and began earnestly to discuss points of 
theology, complain of the ill-usage they had received from 
the "Gentiles," and sound a lamentation over the loss of 



278 THE OREGON TRAIL 

their great temple of Nauvoo.^ After remaining with them 
an hour we rode back to our camp, happy that the settle- 
ments had been delivered from the presence of such blind 
and desperate fanatics. 

On the following morning we left the Pueblo for Bent's 
Fort. The conduct of Raymond had lately been less satis- 
factory than before, and we had discharged him as soon as 
we arrived at the former place ; so that the party, ourselves 
included, was now reduced to four. There was some un- 
certainty as to our future course. The trail between Bent's 
Fort and the settlements, a distance computed at six hun- 
dred miles, was at this time in a dangerous state ; for since 
the passage of General Kearney's army, great numbers of 
hostile Indians, chiefly Pawnees and Comanches, had gath- 
ered about some parts of it. Soon after this time they be- 
came so numerous and audacious, that scarcely a party, 
however large, passed between the fort and the frontier 
without some token of their hostility. The newspapers of 
the time sufficiently display this state of things. Many men 
were killed, and great numbers of horses and mules carried 
off. Not long since I met a man, who, during the 
autumn, came from Santa Fe to Bent's Fort, where he 
found a party of seventy men, who thought themselves 
too weak to go down to the settlements alone, and were wait- 
ing there for a reinforcement. Though this excessive timid- 
ity proves the ignorance of the men, it may also evince 
the state of alarm which prevailed in the country. When 
we were there in the month of August, the danger had 
not become so great. There was nothing very attractive 
in the neighborhood. We supposed, moreover, that we 
might wait there half the winter without finding any party 
to go down with us; for Sublette and the others whom 
we had relied upon had, as Richard told us, already left 
Bent's Fort. Thus far on our journey Fortune had kindly 
befriended us. We resolved therefore to take advantage 
of her gracious mood, and trusting for a continuance of 

I 6 A town in Illinois founded by the Mormons in 1840. They built 

a great temple but wore forced to leave the State in 1846. 



THE PUEBLO AND BENT'S FORT 279 

her favors, to set out with Henry and Deslauriers, and 
run the gauntlet of the Indians in the best way we could. 

Bent's Fort stands on the river, about seventy-five miles 
below the Pueblo. At noon of the third day we arrived 
within three or four miles of it, pitched our tent under a 
tree, hung our looking-glasses against its trunk, and hav- 
ing made our primitive toilet, rode towards the fort. We 
soon came in sight of it, for it is visible from a considerable 
distance, standing with its high clay walls in the midst 
of the scorching plains. It seemed as if a swarm of locusts 
had invaded the country. The grass for miles around 
Avas cropped close by the horses of General Kearney's sol- 
diery. When we came to the fort, we found that not only 
had the horses eaten up the grass, but their owners had 
made way with the stores of the little trading post ; so that 
we had great difficulty in procuring the few articles which 
we required for our homeward journey. The army was 
gone, the life and bustle passed away, and the fort was a 
scene of dull and lazy tranquillity. A few invalid officers 
and soldiers sauntered about the area, which was oppres- 
sively hot ; for the glaring sun was reflected down upon it 
from the high white walls around. The proprietors were 
absent, and we were received by Mr. Holt, who had been 
left in charge of the fort. He invited us to dinner, where, 
to our admiration, we found a table laid with a white 
cloth, with castors in the center, and chairs placed around 
it. This unwonted repast concluded, we rode back to our 
camp. 

Here, as we lay smoking round the fire after supper, we 
saw through the dusk three men approaching from the di- 
rection of the fort. They rode up and seated themselves 
near us on the ground. The foremost was a tall, well- 
formed man, with a face and manner such as inspire con- 
fidence at once. He wore a broad hat of felt, slouching and 
tattered, and the rest of his attire consisted of a frock 
and leggins of buckskin, rubbed with the j^ellow clay found 
among the mountains. At the heel of one of his moccasins 
was buckled a huge iron spur, with a rowel five or six 



2S0 THE OREGON TRAIL 

inches in diameter. His horse, which stood quietly looking 
over his head, had a rude Mexican saddle, covered with a 
shaggy bear-skin, and furnished with a pair of wooden 
stirrups of preposterous size. The next man was a 
sprightly, active little fellow, about five feet and a quarter 
high, but very strong and compact. His face was as 
swarthy as a Mexican's, and covered with a close, curly, 
black beard. An old, greasy, calico handkerchief was tied 
round his head, and his close buckskin dress was blackened 
and polished by grease and hard service. The last who 
came up w^as a large, strong man, dressed in the coarse 
homespun of the frontiers, who dragged his long limbs over 
the ground as if he were too lazy for the effort. He had a 
sleepy gray eye, a retreating chin, an open mouth, and a 
protruding upper lip, which gave him an air of exquisite 
indolence and helplessness. He was armed with an old 
United States yager,^ which redoubtable weapon, though 
he could never hit his mark with it, he was accustomed to 
cherish as the very sovereign of firearms. 

The first two men belonged to a party who had just come 
from California, with a large band of horses, which they 
had disposed of at Bent's Fort. Munroe, the taller of the 
two, was from Iowa. He was an excellent fellow, open, 
warm-hearted, and intelligent. Jim Gurney, the short man, 
was a Boston sailor, who had come in a trading vessel to 
California, and taken the fancy to return across the con- 
tinent. The journey had already made him an expert 
"mountainman," and he presented the extraordinary phe- 
nomenon of a sailor who understood how to manage a horse. 
The third of our visitors, named Ellis, was a Missourian, 
who had come out with a party of Oregon emigrants, but 
having got as far as Bridger's Fort,^ he had fallen home- 
sick, or as Jim averred, love-sick. He thought proper 

7 An early form of military rifle. 

8 Bridger's Fort was on the Black branch of Green River in 
southwestern Wyoming. It was on the Oregon Trail, though many 
parties left it to the south and made direct for Fort Hall. 



THE PUEBLO AND BENTS FORT 281 

therefore to join the California men, and return homeward 
in their company. 

They now requested that they might unite with our 
party, and make the journey to the settlements in com- 
pany with us. We readily assented, for we liked the 
appearance of the first two men, and were very glad to 
gain so efficient a reinforcement. We told them to meet 
us on the next evening at a spot on the river side, about 
six miles below the fort. Having smoked a pipe together, 
our new allies left us, and we lay down to sleep. 



CHAPTER XXII 

TETE ROUGE, THE VOLUNTEER 

The next morning, having directed Deslauriers to repair 
with his cart to the place of meeting, we came again to the 
fort to make some arrangements for the journey. After 
completing these we sat down under a sort of porch, to 
smoke with some Shienne Indians whom we found there. 
In a few minutes we saw an extraordinary little figure 
approach us in a military dress. He had a small, round 
countenance, garnished about the eyes with the kind of 
wrinkles commonly known as crow's feet, and surmounted 
by an abundant crop of red curls, with a little cap resting 
on the top of them. Altogether, he had the look of a 
man more conversant with mint-juleps and oyster suppers 
than with the hardships of prairie-service. He came up 
to us and entreated that we would take him home to the 
settlements, saying that unless he went with us he should 
have to stay all winter at the fort. AVe liked our peti- 
tioner's appearance so little, that we excused ourselves 
from complying with his request. At this he begged us so 
hard to take pity on him, looked so disconsolate, and told 
so lamentable a story, that at last we consented, though 
not without manj^ misgivings. 

The rugged Anglo-Saxon of our new recruit's real name 
proved utterly unmanageable on the lips of our French 
attendants; and Henry Chatillon, after various abortive 
attempts to pronounce it, one day coolly christened him 
Tete Rouge, in honor of his red curls. He had at different 
times been clerk of a Mississippi steamboat, and agent in 
a trading establishment at Nauvoo, besides filling various 
other capacities, in all of which he had seen much more of 
"life" than was good for him. In the spring, thinking 

282 



TETE ROUGE, THE VOLUNTEER 283 

that a summer's campaign would be an agreeable recrea- 
tion, he had joined a company of St. Louis volunteers. 

"There were three of us," said Tete Rouge, "me and 
Bill Stephens and John Hopkins. We thought we would 
just go out with the army, and when we had conquered 
the country, we would get discharged and take our pay, 
you know, and go down to Mexico. They say there's 
plenty of fun going on there. Then we could go back to 
New Oreleans by way of Vera Cruz." 

But Tete Rouge, like many a stouter volunteer, had 
reckoned without his host. Fighting Mexicans was a less 
amusing occupation than he had supposed, and his pleas- 
ure trip was disagreeably interrupted by brain fever, 
which attacked him when about half way to Bent's Fort. 
He jolted along through the rest of the journey in a 
baggage-wagon. When they came to the fort he was 
taken out and left there, with the rest of the sick. Bent's 
Fort does not supply the best accommodations for an 
invalid. Tete Rouge's sick-chamber was a little mud room, 
w^here he and a companion, attacked by the same disease, 
were laid together, with nothing but a buffalo-robe be- 
tween them and the ground. The assistant-surgeon's 
deputy visited them once a day and brought them each a 
huge dose of calomel, the only medicine, according to his 
surviving victim, with which he was acquainted. 

Tete Rouge woke one morning, and turning to his com- 
panion saw his eyes fixed upon the beams above with the 
glassy stare of a dead man. At this the unfortunate vol- 
unteer lost his senses outright. In spite of the doctor, 
however, he eventually recovered; though between the 
brain fever and the calomel, his mind, originally none of 
the strongest, was so much shaken that it had not quite 
recovered its balance when we came to the fort. In 
spite of the poor fellow's tragic story, there was some- 
thing so ludicrous in his appearance, and th^ whimsical 
contrast between his military dress and his most unmili- 
tary demeanor, that we could not help smiling at them. 
We asked him if he had a gun. He said they had taken 



284 THE OREGON TKAIL 

it from him during his illness, and he had not seen it 
since; but "perhaps," he observed, looking at me with a 
beseeching air, "you will lend me one of your big pistols 
if we should meet with any Indians." I next inquired if 
he had a horse; he declared he had a magnificent one, 
and at Shaw's request, a Mexican led him in for inspec- 
tion. He exhibited the outline of a good horse, but his 
eyes were sunk in the sockets, and every one of his ribs 
could be counted. There were certain marks too about 
his shoulders, which could be accounted for by the cir- 
cumstance, that during Tete Rouge's illness, his compan- 
ions had seized upon the insulted charger, and harnessed 
him to a cannon along with the draft horses. To Tete 
Rouge's astonishment we recommended him by all means 
to exchange the horse, if he could, for a mule. Fortu- 
nately the people at the fort were so anxious to get rid 
of him that they were willing to make some sacrifice to 
effect the object, and he succeeded in getting a tolerable 
mule in exchange for the broken-down steed. 

A man soon appeared at the gate, leading in the mule 
by a cord, which he placed in the hands of Tete Rouge, 
who, being somewhat afraid of his new acquisition, tried 
various flatteries and blandishments to induce her to come 
forward. The mule, knowing that she was expected to 
advance, stopped short in consequence, and stood fast as 
a rock, looking straight forward with immovable com- 
posure. Being stimulated by a blow from behind, she 
consented to move, and walked nearly to the other side 
of the fort before she stopped again. Hearing the by- 
standers laugh, Tete Rouge plucked up spirit and tugged 
hard at the rope. The mule jerked backward, spun her- 
self round, and made a dash for the gate. Tete Rouge, 
who clung manfully to the rope, went w^hisking through 
the air for a few rods, when he let go and stood with 
his mouth open, staring after the mule, which galloped 
away over the prairie. She was soon caught and brought 
back by a Mexican, who mounted a horse and went in 
pursuit of her with his lasso. 



TETE ROUGE, THE VOLUNTEER 285 

Having thus displayed his capacities for prairie travel- 
ling, Tete Rouge proceeded to suppl}^ himself with provi- 
sions for the journey, and with this view applied to a 
quarter-master's assistant who was in the fort. This 
official had a face as sour as vinegar, being in a state of 
chronic indignation because he had been left behind the 
army. He was as anxious as the rest to get rid of Tete 
Rouge. So, producing a rusty key, he opened a low door 
which led to a half subterranean apartment, into which 
the two disappeared together. After some time they came 
out again, Tete Rouge greatly embarrassed by a multi- 
plicity of paper parcels containing the different articles of 
his forty days' rations. They were consigned to the care 
of Deslauriers, who about that time passed by with the 
cart on his way to the appointed place of meeting with 
Munroe and his companions. 

AVe next urged Tete Rouge to provide himself, if he 
could, with a gun. He accordingl}^ made earnest appeals 
to the charity of various persons in the fort, but totally 
without success, a circumstance which did not greatly 
disturb us, since in the event of a skirmish, he would be 
more apt to do mischief to himself or his friends than to 
the enemj^ When all these arrangements were completed, 
we saddled our horses, and were preparing to leave the 
fort, when looking round we discovered that our new 
associate was in fresh trouble. A man was holding the 
mule for him in the middle of the fort, while he tried to 
put the saddle on her back, but she kept stepping side- 
ways and moving round and round in a circle until he was 
almost in despair. It required some assistance before all 
his difficulties could be overcome. At length he clambered 
into the black war-saddle on which he was to have carried 
terror into the ranks of the Mexicans. 

"Get up," said Tete Rouge; "come now, go along, will 
you?" 

The mule walked deliberately forward out of the gate. 
Her recent conduct had inspired him with so much awe, 
that he never dared to touch her with his whip. We 



286 THE OREGON TRAIL 

trotted forward toward the place of meeting, but before 
we had gone far, we saw that Tete Rouge's mule, who 
perfectly understood her rider, had stopped and was 
quietly grazing in spite of his protestations, at some dis- 
tance behind. So getting behind him, we drove him and 
the contumacious mule before us, until we could see 
through the twilight the gleaming of a distant fire. 
Munroe, Jim, and Ellis were lying around it ; their saddles, 
packs, and weapons were scattered about, and their horses 
picketed near them. Deslauriers was there too with our 
little cart. Another fire was soon blazing. We invited 
our new allies to take a cup of coffee with us. When 
both the others had gone over to their side of the camp, 
Jim Gurney still stood by the blaze, puffing hard at 
his little black pipe, as short and weather-beaten as him- 
self. 

"Well," he said, ''here are eight of us; we'll call it 
six — for them two boobies, Ellis over yonder, and that new 
man of yours, won't count for any thing. We'll get 
through well enough, never fear for that, unless the 
Comanches happen to get foul of us." 



CHAPTER XXIII 

INDIAN ALARMS 

We began our journey for the settlements on the 
twentj^-seventh of August, and certainly a more ragamuffin 
cavalcade never was seen on the banks of the Upper 
Arkansas. Of the large and fine horses with which we 
had left the frontier in the spring, not one remained: we 
had supplied their place with the rough breed of the 
prairie, as hardy as mules and almost as ugly; we had 
also with us a number of the latter detestable animals. 
In spite of their strength and hardihood, several of the 
band were already worn down by hard service and hard 
fare, and as none of them were shod, they were fast be- 
coming foot-sore. Every horse and mule had a cord of 
twisted bull-hide coiled about his neck, which by no means 
added to the beauty of his appearance. Our saddles and 
all our equipments were worn and battered, and our 
weapons had become dull and rusty. The dress of the 
riders corresponded with the dilapidated furniture of our 
horses, and of the whole party none made a more dis- 
reputable appearance than my friend and I. Shaw had for 
an upper garment an old red flannel shirt, flying open in 
front, and belted around him like a frock; while I, in ab- 
sence of other clothing, was attired in a time-worn suit of 
leather. 

Thus, happy and careless as so many beggars, we crept 
slowly from day to day along the monotonous banks of 
the Arkansas. Tete Rouge gave constant trouble, for he 
could never catch his mule, saddle her, or indeed do any 
thing else without assistance. Every day he had some 
new ailment, real or imaginary, to complain of. At one 
moment he would be woe-begone and disconsolate, and at 

287 



288 THE OREGON TRAIL 

the next he would be visited with a violent flow of spirits, 
to which he could only give vent by incessant laughing, 
whistling, and telling stories. When other resources 
failed, we used to amuse ourselves by tormenting him ; a 
fair compensation for the trouble he cost us. Tete Rouge 
rather enjoyed being laughed at, for he was an odd com- 
pound of weakness, eccentricity, and good-nature. He 
made a figure worthy of a painter as he paced along be- 
fore us, perched on the back of his mule, and enveloped 
in a huge buffalo-robe coat, which some charitable person 
had given him at the fort. This extraordinary garment, 
which would have contained two men of his size, he chose, 
for some reason best known to himself, to wear inside out, 
and he never took it off, even in the hottest weather. It 
was fluttering all over with seams and tatters, and the 
hide was so old and rotten that it broke out every day in 
a new place. Just at the top of it a large pile of red curls 
was visible, with his little cap set jauntily upon one side, 
to give him a military air. His seat in the saddle was 
no less remarkable than his person and equipment. He 
pressed one leg close against his mule's side, and thrust 
the other out at an angle of forty-five degrees. His 
trousers were decorated with a military red stripe, of 
which he was extremely vain; but being much too short, 
the whole length of his boots was usually visible below 
them. His blanket, loosely rolled up into a large bundle, 
dangled at the back of his saddle, where he carried it tied 
with a string. Four or five times a day it would fall to 
the ground. Every few minutes he would drop his pipe, 
his knife, his flint and steel, or a piece of tobacco, and 
scramble down to pick them up. In doing this he would 
contrive to get in everybody's way; and as most of the 
party were by no means remarkable for a fastidious choice 
of language, a storm of anathemas would be showered 
upon him, half in earnest and half in jest, until Tete 
Rouge would declare that there was no comfort in life, 
and that he never saw such fellows before. 

Only a day or two after leaving Bent's Fort, Henry 



IXDIAX ALAR^IS 289 

Chatillon rode forward to hunt, and took Ellis along with 
him. After they had been some time absent we saw them 
coming down the hill, driving three dragoon-horses, which 
had escaped from their owners on the march, or perhaps 
had given out and been abandoned. One of them was in 
tolerable condition, but the others were much emaciated 
and severely bitten by the wolves. Keduced as they were, 
we carried two of them to the settlements, and Henry 
exchanged the third with the Arapahoes for an excellent 
mule. 

On the day after, when we had stopped to rest at noon, 
a long train of Santa Fe wagons came up and trailed 
slowly past us in their picturesque procession. They be- 
longed to a trader named Magoffin, whose brother, with 
a number of other men, came and sat down with us on 
the grass. The news they brought was not of the most 
pleasing complexion. According to their accounts, the 
trail below was in a very dangerous state. They had re- 
peatedly detected Indians prowling at night around their 
camps; and the large party which had left Bent's fort a 
few weeks before our departure had been attacked, and a 
man named Swan, from Massachusetts, had been killed. 
His companions had buried the body; but when Magoffin 
found his grave, which was near a place called '*The 
Caches,"^ the Indians had dug up and scalped him, and 
the wolves had shockingly mangled his remains. As an 
offset to this intelligence, they gave us the welcome in- 
formation that the buffalo were numerous at a few days' 
journey below. 

On the next afternoon, as we moved along the bank of 
the river, we saw the white tops of wagons on the horizon. 
It was some hours before we met them, when they proved 
to be a train of clumsy ox-wagons, quite different from 
the rakish vehicles of the Santa Fe traders, and loaded 
with government stores for the troops.- They all stopped, 
and the drivers gathered around us in a crowd. Many 
of them were mere boys, fresh from the plough. In re- 

1 A place farther east on the Arkansas. See p. 307. 



290 THE OREGON TRAIL 

spect to the state of the trail, they confirmed all that the 
Santa Fe men had told us. In passing between the Pawnee 
Fork - and the Caches, their sentinels had fired every 
night at real or imaginary Indians. They said also that 
Ewing, a young Kentuckian in the party that had gone 
down before us, had shot an Indian who was prowling at 
evening about the camp. Some of them advised us to 
turn back, and others to hasten forward as fast as we 
could; but they all seemed in such a state of feverish 
anxiety, and so little capable of cool judgment, that we 
attached slight weight to what they said. They next gave 
us a more definite piece of intelligence: a large village of 
Arapahoes was encamped on the river below. They rep- 
resented them to be friendly; but some distinction was to 
be made between a party of thirty men, traveling with 
oxen, which are of no value in an Indian's eyes, and a 
mere handful like ourselves, with a tempting band of mules 
and horses. This story of the Arapahoes, therefore, caused 
us some anxiety. 

Early in the afternoon of the next day, looking along 
the horizon in front, we saw that at one point it was 
faintly marked with pale indentations, like the teeth of a 
saw. The distant lodges of the Arapahoes, rising be- 
tween us and the sky, caused this singular appearance. 
It wanted still two or three hours of sunset when we came 
opposite their camp. There were full two hundred lodges 
standing in the midst of a grassy meadow at some dis- 
tance beyond the river, while for a mile around on both 
banks of the Arkansas were scattered some fifteen hun- 
dred horses and mules, grazing together in bands, or 
wandering singly about the prairie. The whole were visi- 
ble at once, for the vast expanse was unbroken by hills^ 
and there was not a tree or a bush to intercept the view. 

Here and there walked an Indian, engaged in w^atching 
the horses. No sooner did we see them than Tete Rouge 
begged Deslauriers to stop the cart and hand him his 
military jacket, which w^as stowed away there. In this he 

2 The Pawnee River flows into the Arkansas from the north. 



INDIAN ALARMS 291 

invested himself, having for once laid the old buffalo-coat 
aside, assumed a martial posture in the saddle, set his 
cap over his left eye with an air of defiance, and earnestly 
entreated that somebody would lend him a gun or a 
pistol only for half an hour. Being called upon to explain 
these proceedings, Tete Rouge observed, that he knew 
from experience what effect the presence of a military 
man in his uniform always has upon the mind of an In- 
dian, and he thought the Arapahoes ought to know that 
there was a soldier in the party. 

Meeting Arapahoes here on the Arkansas was a very 
different thing from meeting the same Indians among- 
their native mountains. There was another circumstance 
in our favor. General Kearney had seen them a few 
weeks before, as he came up the river with his army, and^ 
renewing his threats of the previous year, he told them 
that if they ever again tojiched the hair of a white man's 
head he would exterminate their nation. This placed 
them for the time in an admirable frame of mind, and 
the effect of his menaces had not yet disappeared. I was 
desirous to see the village and its inhabitants. We thought 
it also our best policy to visit them openly, as if unsus- 
picious of any hostile design ; and Shaw and I, with Henry 
Chatillon, prepared to cross the river. The rest of the 
party meanwhile moved forward as fast as they could, 
in order to get as far as possible from our suspicious 
neighbors before night came on. 

The Arkansas at this point, and for several hundred 
miles below, is nothing but a broad sand-bed, over which 
glide a few scanty threads of water, now and then expand- 
ing into wide shallows. At several places, during the 
autumn, the water sinks into the sand and disappears 
altogether. At this season, were it not for the numerous 
quicksands, the river might be forded almost anywhere 
without difficulty, though its channel is often a quarter 
of a mile wide. Our horses jumped down the bank, and 
wading through the water, or galloping freely over the 
hard sand-beds, soon reached the other side. Here, as 



292 THE OREGON TRAIL 

we were pushing through the tall grass, we saw several 
Indians not far off; one of them waited until we came up, 
and stood for some moments in perfect silence before us, 
looking at us askance with his little snake-like eyes. 
Henry explained by signs what we wanted and the Indian, 
gathering his buffalo-robe about his shoulders, led the 
way towards the village without speaking a word. 

The language of the Arapahoes is so difficult, and its 
pronunciation so harsh and guttural, that no white man, 
it is said, has ever been able to master it. Even Maxwell, 
the trader who has been most among them, is compelled 
to resort to the curious sign-language common to most of 
the prairie tribes.^ With this sign-language Henry Chatil- 
lon was perfectly acquainted. 

Approaching the village, we found the ground strewn 
w^ith piles of waste buffalo-meat in incredible quantities. 
The lodges were pitched in a circle. They resembled 
those of the Dahcotah in every thing but cleanliness. 
Passing between two of them, we entered the great 
circular area of the camp, and instantly hundreds of In- 
dians, men, women, and children, came flocking out of 
their habitations to look at us ; at the same time, the dogs 
.all around the village set up a fearful baying. Our 
Indian guide walked towards the lodge of the chief. Here 
we dismounted; and loosening the trail-ropes from our 
horses' necks, held them securely as we sat down before the 
entrance, with our rifles laid across our laps. The chief 
came out and shook us by the hand. He was a mean- 
looking fellow, very tall, thin-visaged, and sinewy, like 
the rest of the nation, and with scarcely a vestige of cloth- 
ing. We had not been seated a moment before a multi- 
tude of Indians came crowding around us from every 
part of the village, and we were shut in by a dense wall of 
savage faces. Some of the Indians crouched around us 
on the ground; others sat behind them; others, stooping, 
looked over their heads; while many more stood behind, 

3 Some account of this sign language may be found in various 
places, e. g., Long's Expedition, 1823; I, 378. 



INDIAN ALARMS 293 

peering over each other's shoulders, to get a view of us. 
I looked in vain among this multitude of faces to dis- 
cover one manly or generous expression; all were wolfish, 
sinister, and malignant, and their complexions, as well as 
their features, unlike those of the Dahcotah, were exceed- 
ingly bad. The chief, who sat close to the entrance, 
called to a squaw within the lodge, who soon came out and 
placed a wooden bowl of meat before us. To our sur- 
prise, however, no pipe was offered. Having tasted of 
the meat as a matter of form, I began to open a bundle 
of presents, — tobacco, knives, vermilion, and other articles, 
which I had brought with me. At this there was a grin 
on every countenance in the rapacious crowd; their eyes 
began to glitter, and long thin arms were eagerly stretched 
towards us on all sides to receive the gifts. 

The Arapahoes set great value upon their shields, which 
they transmit carefully from father to son. I wished to 
get one of them; and displaying a large piece of scarlet- 
cloth, together with some tobacco and a knife, I offered 
them to any one who would bring me what I wanted. 
After some delay a tolerable shield was produced. 
They were very anxious to know what we meant to do 
with it, and Henry told them that we were going to fight 
their enemies the Pawnees. This instantly produced^ a 
visible impression in our favor, which was increased by 
the distribution of the presents. Among these was a large 
paper of awls, a gift appropriate to the women ; and as we 
were anxious to see the beauties of the Arapahoe village,. 
Henry requested that they might be called to receive them. 
A warrior gave a shout, as if he were calling a pack of dogs 
together. The squaws, young and old, hags of eighty and 
girls of sixteen, came running with screams and laughter 
out of the lodges ; and as the men gave way for them, they 
gathered round us and stretched out their arms, grinning 
with delight, their native ugliness considerably enhanced 
by the excitement of the moment. 

Mounting our horses, which during the whole interview 
we had held close to us, we prepared to leave the Arapa- 



294 THE OREGON TRAIL 

iiO^S* The crowd fell back on each side, and stood looking* 
*oti. When we were half across the camp an idea occurred 
to us. The Pawnees were probably in the neighborhood 
■<bf the Caches; we might tell the Arapahoes of this, and 
Instigate them to send down a war-party and cut them 
off, while we ourselves could remain behind for a while 
and hunt the buffalo. At first thought, this plan of setting 
our enemies to destroy one another seemed to us a master- 
piece of policy ; but we immediately recollected that should 
wb meet the Arapahoe warriors on the river below, they 
might prove quite as dangerous as the Pawnees themselves. 
So ipejecting our plan as soon as it presented itself, we 
^pssssed out of the village on the farther side. We urged 
our horses rapidly through the tall grass, which rose to 
their necks. Several Indians were walking through it at 
a distance, their heads just visible above its waving surface. 
It bore a kind of seed, as sweet and nutritious as oats; 
and our hungry horses, in spite of whip and rein, could 
not resist the temptation of snatching at this unwonted 
luxury as we passed along. When about a mile from the 
village, I turned and looked back over the undulating 
ocean of grass. The sun was just set; the western sky 
was all in a glow, and sharply defined against it, on the 
extreme verge of the plain, stood the numerous lodges of 
the Arapahoe camp. 

Reaching the bank of the river, we followed it for 
some distance farther, until we discerned through the 
twilight the w^hite covering of our little cart on the op- 
posite bank. When we reached it we found a considerable 
number of Indians there before us. Four or five of them 
were seated in a row upon the ground, looking like so 
many half-starved vultures. Tete Rouge, in his uniform, 
was holding a close colloquy with another by the side of 
the cart. Finding all his signs and gesticulation of no 
avail, he tried to make the Indian understand him by re- 
peating English words very loudly and distinctly again 
and again. The Indian sat with his eye fixed steadily 
■upon him, and in spite of the rigid immobility of his 



INDIAN ALAKMS 295 

features, 1^ was clear at a glance that he perfectly under- 
stood his military companion's character and thoroughly 
despised him. The exhibition was more amusing than 
politic, and Tete Rouge was directed to finish what he 
had to say as soon as possible. Thus rebuked, he crept 
under the cart and sat down there; Henry Chatillon 
stooped to look at him in his retirement, and remarked 
in his quiet manner that an Indian would kill ten such 
men and laugh all the time. 

One by one our visitors arose and stalked away. As 
the darkness thickened we were saluted by dismal sounds. 
The wolves are incredibly numerous in this part of the 
country, and the offal around the Arapahoe camp had 
drawn such multitudes of them together that several 
hundreds were howling in concert in our immediate 
neighborhood. There was an island in the river, or rather 
an oasis in the midst of the sands, at about the distance 
of a gun-shot, and here they seemed to be gathered in 
the greatest numbers. A horrible discord of low mourn- 
ful wailings, mingled with ferocious howls, arose from it 
incessantly for several hours after sunset. We could dis- 
tinctly see the w^olves running about the prairie within a 
few rods of our fire, or bounding over the sand-beds of 
the river and splashing through the water. There was 
not the slightest danger from them, for they are the 
greatest cowards on the prairie. 

In respect to the human wolves in our neighborhood, 
we felt much less at our ease. That night each man 
spread his buffalo-robe upon the ground with his loaded 
rifle laid at his side or clasped in his arms. Our horses 
were picketed so close around us that one of them re- 
peatedly stepped over me as I lay. We were not in the 
habit of placing a guard, but every man was anxious and 
watchful : there was little sound sleeping in camp, and 
some one of the party was on his feet during the greater 
part of the night. For myself, I lay alternately waking 
and dozing until midnight. Tete Rouge was reposing 
close to the river bank, and about this time, when half 



296 THE OREGON TRAIL 

asleep and half awake, I was conscious that he shifted 
his position and crept on all fours under the cart. Soon 
after I fell into a sound sleep, from which I was roused 
by a hand shaking me by the shoulder. Looking up, I 
saw Tete Rouge stooping over me with his face pale and 
his eyes dilated. 

^'What's the matter?" said I. 

Tete Rouge declared that as he lay on the river bank, 
something caught his eye which excited his suspicions. 
So creeping under the cart for safety's sake, he sat there 
and watched, when he saw two Indians, wrapped in white 
robes, creep up the bank, seize upon two horses and lead 
them off. He looked so frightened and told his story in 
such a disconnected manner that I did not believe him, 
and was unwilling to alarm the party. Still it might be 
true, and in that case the matter required instant atten- 
tion. So directing Tete Rouge to show me which way 
the Indians had gone, I took my rifle, in obedience to a 
thoughtless impulse, and left the camp. I followed the 
river bank for two or three hundred yards, listening and 
looking anxiously on every side. In the dark prairie on 
the right I could discern nothing to excite alarm; and in 
the dusky bed of the river, a wolf was bounding along 
in a manner which no Indian could imitate. I returned 
to the camp, and when within sight of it, saw that the 
whole party was aroused. Shaw called out to me that he 
had counted the horses, and that every one of them was 
in his place. Tete Rouge being examined as to what he 
had seen, only repeated his former story with many 
asseverations, and insisted that two horses were certainly 
carried off. At this Jim Gurney declared that he was 
crazy ; Tete Rouge indignantly denied the charge, on which 
Jim appealed to us. As we declined to give our judg- 
ment on so delicate a matter, the dispute grew hot between 
Tete Rouge and his accuser, until he was directed to go 
to bed and not alarm the camp again if he saw the whole 
Arapahoe village coming. 



CHAPTER XXIV ^ 

DOWN THE ARKANSAS 

In the summer of 1846, the wild and lonely banks of 
the Upper Arkansas beheld for the first time the passage 
of an army. General Kearnej^ on his march to Santa 
Fe, adopted this route in preference to the old trail of the 
Cimarron.- AVhen we came down, the main body of the 
troops had already passed on; Price's Missouri regiment,^ 
however, was still on its way, having left the frontier 
much later than the rest; and about this time we began 
to meet them moving along the trail one or two com- 
panies at a time. No men ever embarked upon a military 
expedition with a greater love for the work before them 
than the Missourians ; but if discipline and subordination 
be the criterion of merit, these soldiers were worthless 
indeed. Yet when their exploits have rung through all 
America, it Avould be absurd to deny that they were 
excellent irregular troops. Their victories were gained 
in the teeth of every established precedent of warfare. 
They were owing to a combination of military qualities 
in the men themselves. Doniphan's regiment* marched 
through New Mexico more like a band of free companions 
than like the paid soldiers of a modern government. 

iThis is Chapter XXVI in the original. Chapters XXIV and 
XXV have been omitted, as they are almost wholly given to accounts 
of buffalo-hunting which has been described in previous chapters, 
and to some extent in this. 

2 The Cimarron River is south of the Arkansas. 

3 Sterling Price was colonel of the Second Missouri Volunteers 
which had left Fort Leavenworth early in August. 

4 A. W. Doniphan was colonel of the First Missouri Volunteers 
which marched to Santa Fe with Kearney. They afterwards marched 
south into Mexico. 

297 



298 THE OREGON TRAIL 

When General Taylor ^ complimented Doniphan on his 
success at Sacramento*^ and elsewhere, tlie Colonel's reply 
Tery well illustrates the relations which subsisted between 
the officers and men of his command. 

'^I don't know any thing of the manoeuvers. The boys 
kept coming to me, to let them charge; and when I saw 
a, good opportunity, I told them they might go. They 
were off like a shot, and that's all I know about it." 

The backwoods lawyer^ w^as better fitted to conciliate 
the good-will than to command the obedience of his men. 
There were many serving under him, who both from 
character and education could better have held command 
than he. 

At the battle of Sacramento his frontiersmen fought 
Tinder every disadvantage. The Mexicans had chosen 
their position ; they were drawn up across the valley 
that led to their native city of Chihuahua ; their whole 
front was covered by intrenchments and defended by bat- 
teries of heavy cannon ; and they outnumbered the in- 
vaders five to one. An eagle flew over the Americans, 
and a deep murmur rose along their lines. The enemy's 
batteries opened ; long they remained under fire ; but when 
at length word was given, they shouted and ran forward. 
In one of the divisions, when mid-w^ay to the enemy a 
drunken officer ordered a halt; the exasperated men hesi- 
tated to obey. 

' ' Forward, boys ! ' ' cried a private from the ranks ; and 
the Americans rushing like tigers upon the enemy, bounded 
over the breastw^orks. Four hundred Mexicans were slain 
upon the spot, and the rest fled, scattering over the plain 
like sheep. The standards, cannon, and baggage were 
taken, and among the rest a wagon laden with cords, w^hich 
the Mexicans, in the fulness of their confidence, had made 
ready for tying the American prisoners. 

5 Gen. Zachary Taylor, a successful general in the Mexican war, 
and afterward President. 

c Sacramento is just north of Chihuahua in Mexico. 
7 Doniphan had been a lawyer in Kentucky. 



DOWN THE ARKANSAS 299 

Doniphan's volunteers, who gained this victory, passed 
lip with the main armyj but Price's soldiers, whom we 
now met, were men from the same neighborhood, precisely 
ijimilar in character, manners, and appearance. One 
forenoon, as we were descending upon a wide meadow, 
where we meant to rest for an hour or two, we saw a 
body of horsemen approaching at a distance. In order 
to find water, we were obliged to turn aside to the river 
bank, a full half mile from the trail. Here we put up a 
kind of awning, and spreading buffalo-robes on the ground 
Shaw and I sat down to smoke. 

"We are going to catch it now," said Shaw; *'look at 
those fellows; there'll be no peace for us here." 

And in truth about half the volunteers had straggled 
away from the line of march, and were riding over the 
meadow towards us. 

"How are you?" said the first who came up, alighting 
from his horse and throwing himself upon the ground. 
The rest followed close, and a score of them soon gathered 
about us, some lying at full length and some sitting on 
horseback. They all belonged to a company raised in 
,St. Louis. There Avere some ruffian faces among them, 
and some haggard with debauchery ; but on the whole they 
were extremely good-looking men, superior beyond meas- 
ure to the ordinary rank and file of an army. Except that 
they were booted to the knees, they wore their belts and 
military trappings over the ordinary dress of citizens. 
Besides their swords and holster pistols, they carried slung 
from their saddles the excellent Springfield carbines, 
loaded at the breech. They inquired the character of our 
party, and were anxious to know the prospect of killing 
buffalo, and the chance that their horses would stand the 
journey to Santa Fe. All this was well enough, but a 
moment after a worse visitation came upon us. 

"How are you, strangers? whar are you going and whar 
are you from?" said a fellow, who came trotting up with 
an old straw hat on his head. He was dressed in the 
coarsest brown homespun cloth. His face was rather 



300 THE OREGON TRAIL 

sallow from fever-and-ague, and his tall figure, though 
strong and sinewy, had an angular look, which, together 
with his boorish seat on horseback, gave him an ap- 
pearance any thing but graceful. More of the same stamp 
were close behind him. Their company was raised in one 
of the frontier counties^ and we soon had abundant evi- 
dence of their rustic breeding; dozens of them came 
crowding around, pushing between our first visitors, and 
staring at us with unabashed faces. 

' ' Are you the captain ? ' ' asked one fellow. 

''What's your business out here?" asked another. 

"Whar do you live when you're to home?" said a third. 

"I reckon you're traders," surmised a fourth; and to 
crown the whole, one of them came confidentially to my 
side and inquired in a low voice, "What's your partner's, 
name?" 

As each new comer repeated the same questions, the 
nuisance became intolerable. Our military visitors were 
soon disgusted at the concise nature of our replies, and 
we could overhear them muttering curses. While we sat 
smoking, not in the best imaginable humor, Tete Rouge's, 
tongue was never idle. He never forgot his military char- 
acter, and during the whole interview he was incessantly 
busy among his fellow-soldiers. At length we placed him 
on the ground before us, and told him that he might play 
the part of spokesman. Tete Rouge was delighted, and we 
soon had the satisfaction of seeing him gabble at such a 
rate that the torrent of questions was in a great measure 
diverted from us. A little while after, a cannon with four 
horses came lumbering up behind the crowd ; and the driver, 
who was perched on one of the animals, stretching his neck 
so as to look over the rest of the men, called out, — 

"Whar are you from, and what's your business?" 

The captain of one of the companies was among our 
visitors, drawn by the same curiosity that had attracted 
his men. Unless their faces belied them, not a few in the 
crowd might with great advantage have changed places 
with their commander. 



DOWN THE ARKANSAS 301 

''Well, men/' said he, lazily rising from the ground 
where he had been lounging, "it's getting late, I reckon 
we'd better be moving." 

"I shan't start vet anyhow," said one fellow, who was 
lying half asleep with his head resting on his arm. 

"Don't be in a hurry, Captain," added the lieutenant. 

"Well, have it your own way, we'll wait a while 
longer," replied the obsequious commander. 

At length, however, our visitors went straggling away 
as they had come, and we, to our great relief, were left 
alone again. 

No one was more relieved than Deslauriers by the de- 
parture of the volunteers; for dinner was getting colder 
every moment. He spread a well-whitened buffalo-hide 
upon the grass, placed in the middle the juicy hump of a 
fat cow, ranged around it the tin plates and cups, and 
then announced that all was ready. Tete Rouge, with 
his usual alacrity on such occasions, was the first to take 
his seat. In his former capacity of steamboat clerk, he 
had learned to prefix the honorary Mister to everybody's 
name, whether of high or low degree; so Jim Gurney was 
Mr. Gurney, Henry was Mr. Henry, and even Deslauriers, 
for the first time in his life, heard himself addressed as 
Mr. Deslauriers. This did not prevent his conceiving a 
violent enmity against Tete Rouge, who, in his futile 
though praiseworthy attempts to make himself useful, 
used always to intermeddle with cooking the dinners. 
Deslauriers 's disposition knew no medium between smiles 
and sunshine and a downright tornado of wrath; he said 
nothing to Tete Rouge, but his wrongs rankled in his 
breast. Tete Rouge had taken his place at dinner; it 
was his happiest moment; he sat enveloped in the old 
buffalo-coat, sleeves turned up in preparation for the work, 
and his short legs crossed on the grass before him ; he 
had a cup of coffee by his side and his knife ready in his 
hand, and while he looked upon the fat hump ribs, his 
eyes dilated with anticipation. Deslauriers sat opposite to 
him, and the rest of us by this time had taken our seats. 



302 THE OEEGON TRAIL 

''How is this, Deslauriers? You haven't given us 
bread enough." 

At this Deslauriers's placid face flew into a paroxysm 
of contortions. He grinned with wrath, chattered, gestic- 
ulated, and hurled forth a volley of incoherent words in 
broken English at the astonished Tete Kouge. It was 
just possible to make out that he was accusing him of 
having stolen and eaten four large cakes which had been 
laid by for dinner. Tete Rouge, confounded at this sud- 
den attack, stared at his assailant for a moment in dumb 
amazement, with mouth and eyes wide open. At last he 
found speech, and protested that the accusation was false; 
and that he could not conceive how he had offended Mr. 
Deslauriers, or provoked him to use such ungentlemanly 
expressions. The tempest of words raged with such fury 
that nothing else could be heard. But Tete Rouge from 
his greater command of English had a manifest advan- 
tage over Deslauriers, who, after sputtering and grimacing 
for a while, found his words quite inadequate to the ex- 
pression of his wrath. He jumped up and vanished, 
jerking out between his teeth one furious sao^e enfant de 
garce! a Canadian title of honor, made doubly emphatic 
by being usually applied together with a cut of the whip 
to refractory mules and horses. 

The next morning we saw an old buffalo-bull escorting 
his cow with two small calves over the prairie. Close 
behind came four or five large white wolves, sneaking 
stealthily through the long meadow-grass, and watching 
for the moment when one of the children should chance 
to lag behind his parents. The old bull kept well on his 
guard, and faced about now and then to keep the prowling 
ruffians at a distance. 

As we approached our nooning-place we saw five or six 
buffalo standing at the summit of a tall bluff. Trotting 
forward to the spot where we meant to stop, I flung oft' 
my saddle and turned my horse loose. By making a cir- 
cuit under cover of some rising ground, I reached the 
foot of the bluff unnoticed, and climbed up its steep 



DOWN THE AEKANSAS 303 

side. Lying under the brow of the declivity, I prepared 
to fire at the buffalo, who stood on the flat surface above, 
not five yards distant. I was too hasty, the gleaming rifle- 
barrel leveled over the edge caught their notice, and they 
turned and ran. Close as they were, it was impossible to 
kill them when in that position, and stepping upon the 
summit, I pursued them over the high arid table-land. It 
w^as extremely rugged and broken; a great sandy ravine 
was channeled through it, with smaller ravines entering 
on each side, like tributary streams. 

The buffalo scattered, and I soon lost sight of most of 
them as they scuttled away through the sandy chasms; a 
bull and a cow alone kept in view. For a while they ran 
along the edge of the great ravine, appearing and disap- 
pearing as they dived into some chasm and again emerged 
from it. At last they stretched out upon the broad prairie, 
a plain nearly flat and almost devoid of verdure, for every 
short grass-blade was dried and shrivelled by the glaring 
sun. Now and then the old bull would face towards me; 
whenever he did so I fell to the ground and lay motionless. 
In this manner I chased them for about two miles, until at 
length I heard in front a deep hoarse bellowing. A 
moment after, a band of about a hundred bulls, before 
hidden by a slight swell of the plain, came at once into 
view. The fugitives ran towards them. Instead of min- 
gling with the band, as I expected, they passed directly 
through, and continued their flight. At this I gave up 
the chase, crawled to within gun-shot of the bulls, and 
sat down on the ground to watch them. My presence did 
not disturb them in the least. They were not feeding, 
for there was nothing to eat; but they seemed to have 
chosen the parched and scorching desert as the scene of 
their amusement. Some were rolling on the ground amid 
a cloud of dust; others, with a hoarse rumbling bellow, 
were butting their large heads together, while many stood 
motionless, as if quite inanimate. 

Except their monstrous growth of tangled, grizzly mane, 
they had no hair; for their old coat had fallen off in the 



304 THE OREGON TRAIL 

spring, and their new one had not as yet appeared. Some- 
times an old bull would step forward, and gaze at me 
with a grim and stupid countenance; then he would turn 
and butt his next neighbor; then he would lie down and 
roll over in the dust, kicking his hoofs in the air. When 
satisfied with this amusement, he would jerk his head 
and shoulders upward, and resting on his forelegs, stare 
at me in this position, half blinded by his mane, and his 
face covered with dirt; then up he would spring upon all 
fours, shake his dusty sides, turn half round, and stand 
with his beard touching the ground, in an attitude of pro- 
found abstraction, as if reflecting on his puerile conduct. 
*'You are too ugly to live," thought I; and aiming at the 
ugliest, I shot three of them in succession. The rest were 
not at all discomposed at this; they kept on bellowing, 
butting, and rolling on the ground as before. 

Henry Chatillon always cautioned as to keep perfectly 
quiet in the presence of a wounded buffalo, for any move- 
ment is apt to excite him to make an attack; so I sat still 
upon the ground, loading and firing with as little motion 
as possible. While I was thus employed, a spectator made 
his appearance: a little antelope came running up to with- 
in fifty yards; and there it stood, its slender neck arched, 
its small horns thrown back, and its large dark eyes gaz- 
ing on me with a look of eager curiosity. By the side of 
the shaggy and brutish monsters before me, it seemed 
like some lovely young girl in a den of robbers or a 
nest of bearded pirates. The buffalo looked uglier than 
ever. *'Here goes for another of you," thought I, feeling 
in my pouch for a percussion-cap. Not a percussion-cap 
was there. My good rifle was useless as an old iron bar. 
One of the wounded bulls had not yet fallen, and I 
waited for some time, hoping every moment that his 
strength would fail him. He still stood firm, • looking 
grimly at me, and disregarding Henry's advice, I rose 
and walked away. Many of the bulls turned and looked 
at me, but the wounded brute made no attack. 

I soon came upon a deep ravine which would give me 



DOWX THE ARKANSAS 305 

shelter in case of emergency ; so I turned round and threw 
a stone at the bulls. They received it with the utmost 
indifference. Feeling myself insulted at their refusal to 
be frightened, I swung my hat, shouted, and made a 
show of running towards them; at this they crowded to- 
gether and galloped off, leaving their dead and wounded 
upon the field. As I moved towards the camp I saw the 
last survivor totter and fall dead. My speed in returning 
was wonderfully quickened by the reflection that the 
Pawnees were abroad, and that I was defenceless in case 
of meeting with an enemy. I saw no living thing, how- 
ever, except two or three squalid old bulls scrambling 
among the sand-hills that flanked the great ravine. When 
I reached camp the party were nearly ready for the after- 
noon move. 

We encamped that evening at a short distance from the 
river bank. About midnight, as we all lay asleep on the 
ground, the man nearest to me, gently reaching out his 
hand, touched my shoulder, and cautioned me at the same 
time not to move. It was bright starlight. Opening my 
eyes and slightly turning, I saw a large white wolf mov- 
ing stealthily around the embers of our fire, with his nose 
close to the ground. Disengaging my hand from the 
blanket, I drew the cover from my rifle, which lay close 
at my side; the motion alarmed the wolf, and with long 
leaps he bounded out of the camp. Jmnping up, I fired 
after him, when he was about thirty yards distant; the 
melancholy hum of the bullet sounded far away through 
the night. At the sharp report, so suddenly breaking up- 
on the stillness, all the men sprang up. 
' ''You have killed him," said one of them. 

"No, I haven't," said I; "there he goes, running along 
the river." 

' "Then there's two of them. Don't you see that one ly- 
ing out yonder?" 

We went out to it, and instead of a dead white wolf, 
found the bleached skull of a buffalo. I had missed my 
mark, and what was worse had grossly violated a stand- 



306 THE OREGON TRAIL 

ing law of the prairie. When in a dangerous part of the 
country, it is considered highly imprudent to fire a gun 
after encamping, lest the report should reach the ears of 
Indians. 

The horses were saddled in the morning, and the last 
man had lighted his pipe at the dying embers of the fire. 
The beauty of the day enlivened us all. Even Ellis felt 
its influence, and occasionally made a remark as we rode 
along, and Jim Gurney told endless stories of his cruis- 
ings in the United States service. The buffalo w^ere 
abundant, and at length a large band of them went run- 
ning up the hills on the left. 

"Too good a chance to lose," said Shaw. We lashed 
our horses and galloped after them. Shaw killed one w^ith 
each barrel of his gun. I separated another from the herd 
and shot him. The small bullet of the rifle-pistol strik- 
ing too far back did not immediately take effect, and the 
bull ran on with unabated speed. Again and again I 
snapped the remaining pistol at him. I primed it afresh 
three or four times, and each time it missed fire, for the 
touch-hole was clogged up. Returning it to the holster, 
I began to load the empty pistol, still galloping by the 
side of the bull. By this time he had grown desperate. 
The foam flew from his jaws and his tongue lolled out. 
Before the pistol was loaded he sprang upon me, and fol- 
lowed up his attack with a furious rush. The only alter- 
native was to run away or be killed. I took to flight, 
and the bull, bristling with fury, pursued me closely. 
The pistol was soon ready,' and then looking back I saw 
his head five or six yards behind my horse's tail. To 
fire at it would be useless, for a bullet flattens against 
the adamantine skull of a buffalo-bull. Inclining my body 
to the left, I turned my horse in that direction as sharply 
as his speed would permit. The bull rushing blindly on 
with great force and weight did not turn so quickly. As 
I looked back, his neck and shoulder were exposed to 
view; and, turning in the saddle, I shot a bullet through 
them obliquely into his vitals. He gave over the chase 



DOWN THE ARKANSAS 307 

and soon fell to the ground. An English tourist repre- 
sents a situation like this as one of imminent danger; 
this is a mistake; the bull never pursues long, and the 
horse must be wretched indeed that cannot keep out of 
his way for two or three minutes. 

We were now come to a part of the country where we 
were bound in common prudence to use every possible pre- 
caution. We mounted guard at night, each man stand-; 
ing in his turn; and no one ever slept without drawing 
his rifle close to his side or folding it with him in his 
blanket. One morning our vigilance was stimulated by 
finding traces of a large Comanche encampment. Fortu- 
nately for us, however, it had been abandoned nearly a 
week. On the next evening we found the ashes of a 
recent fire, which gave us at the time some uneasiness. 
At length we reached the Caches,^ a place of dangerous 
repute; and it had a most dangerous appearance, con- 
sisting of sand-hills everywhere broken by ravines and 
deep chasms. Here we found the grave of Swan, killed 
at this place, probably by the Pawnees, two or three weeks 
before. His remains, more than once violated by the In- 
dians and the wolves, were suffered at length to remain 
undisturbed in their wild burial-place. 

For several days we met detached companies of Price's 
regiment. Horses would often break loose at night from 
their camps. One afternoon we picked up three of these 
stragglers quietly grazing along the river. After we came 
to camp that evening, Jim Gurney brought news that 
more of them were in sight. It was nearly dark, and a 
cold, drizzling rain had set in; but we all turned out, and 
after an hour's chase nine horses were caught and brought 
in. One of them was equipped with saddle and bridle; 
pistols were hanging at the pommel of the saddle, a car- 
bine was slung at its side, and a blanket rolled up behind 
it. In the morning, we resumed our journey, our caval- 
cade presenting a much more imposing appearance than 

s A "cache" is a store of provisions or other things which people 
wish to hide and leave behind them for future use. 



308 THE OREGON TRAIL 

ever before. We kept on till tlie afternoon, when, far 
behind, three horsemen appeared on the horizon. Com- 
ing on at a hand-gallop, they soon overtook us, and claimed 
all the horses as belonging to themselves and others of 
their company. They were of course given up, very much 
to the mortification of Ellis and Jim Gurney. 

Our own horses now showed signs of fatigue, and we 
resolved to give them half a day's rest. We stopped at 
noon at a grassy spot by the river. After dinner Shaw 
and Henry went out to hunt; and while the men lounged 
about the camp, I lay down to read in the shadow of the 
cart. Looking up, I saw a bull grazing alone on the 
prairie more than a mile distant. Taking my rifle I 
walked towards him. As I came near, I crawled upon the 
ground until I approached to within a hundred yards; 
here I sat down upon the grass and waited till he should 
turn himself into a proper position to receive his death- 
wound. He was a grim old veteran. His loves and his 
battles were over for that season, and now, gaunt and 
war-worn, he had withdrawn from the herd to graze by 
himself and recruit his exhausted strength. He was mis- 
erably emaciated; his mane was all in tatters; his hide 
was bare and rough as an elephant's, and covered with 
dried patches of the mud in which he had been wallow- 
ing. He showed all his ribs whenever he moved. He 
looked like some grizzly old ruffian grown gray in blood 
and violence, and scowling on all the world from his mis- 
anthropic seclusion. The old savage looked up when I 
first approached, and gave me a fierce stare; then he fell 
to grazing again with an air of contemptuous indifference. 
The moment after, as if suddenly recollecting himself, he 
threw up his head, faced quickly about, and to my amaze- 
ment came at a rapid trot directly towards me. I was 
strongly impelled to get up and run, but this would have 
been very dangerous. Sitting quite still, I aimed, as he 
came on, at the thin part of the skull above the nose. 

After he had passed over about three-quarters of the 



DOWN THE ARKANSAS 309 

distance between us, I was on the point of firing, when, 
to my great satisfaction, he stopped short. I had full 
opportunity of studying his countenance ; his whole front 
was covered with a huge mass of coarse matted hair, 
which hung so low that nothing but his two forefeet were 
visible beneath it; his short thick horns were blunted 
and split to the very roots in his various battles, and 
across his nose and forehead were two or three large 
white scars, which gave him a grim, and at the same time, 
a whimsical appearance. It seemed to me that he stood 
there motionless for a full quarter of an hour looking at 
me through the tangled locks of his mane. For my part, 
I remained as quiet as he, and looked quite as hard. I 
felt greatly inclined to come to terms with him. "My 
friend," thought I, "if you'll let me off, I'll let you off." 
At length he seemed to have abandoned any hostile de- 
sign. Very slowly and deliberately he began to turn 
about; little by little his side came into view, all be- 
plastered with mud. It was a tempting sight. I forgot 
my prudent intentions, and fired my ritie; a pistol would 
have served at that distance. Round spun the old bull 
like a top, and away he galloped over the prairie. He ran 
some distance, and even ascended a considerable hill, be- 
fore he lay down and died. After shooting another bull 
among the hills, I went back to camp. 

At noon, on the fourteenth of September, a very large 
Santa Fe caravan came up. The plain was covered with 
the long files of their white-topped wagons, the close black 
carriages in which the traders travel and sleep, large 
droves of animals, and men on horseback and on foot. 
They all stopped on the meadow near us. Our diminu- 
tive cart and handful of men made but an insignifi- 
cant figure by the side of their wide and bustling camp. 

That camp is worthy of notice. The traders warned 
us not to follow the main trail along the river, "unless," 
as one of them observed, "you want to have your throats 
cut!" The river at this place makes a bend; and a 



310 THE OREGON TRAIL 

smaller trail, known as ''the Ridge-path," leads directly 
across the prairie from point to point, a distance of sixty 
or seventy miles. 

We followed this trail, and after traveling seven or 
eight miles came to a small stream, where we encamped. 
Our position was not chosen with much forethought or 
military skill. The water was in a deep hollow, ■ with 
steep, high banks; on the grassy bottom of this hollow 
we picketed our horses, while we ourselves encamped upon 
the barren prairie just above. The opportunity was ad- 
mirable either for driving off our horses or attacking us. 
After dark, as Tete Rouge was sitting at supper, we ob- 
served him pointing with a face of speechless horror over 
the shoulder of Henry, who was opposite to him. Aloof 
amid the darkness appeared a gigantic black apparition, 
solemnly swaying to and fro as it advanced steadily upon 
us. Plenry, half vexed and half amused, jumped up, 
spread out his arms, and shouted. The invader was an 
old buffalo-bull, who with characteristic stupidity, was 
walking directly into camp. It cost some shouting and 
swinging of hats before we could bring him first to a halt 
and then to rapid retreat. 

The moon was full and bright; but as the black clouds 
chased rapidly over it, we were at one moment in light 
and at the next in darkness. As the evening advanced, 
a thunder-storm came up and struck us with such violence 
that the tent would have been blown over if we had not 
interposed the cart to break the force of the wind. At 
length it subsided to a steady rain. I lay awake through 
nearly the whole night, listening to its dull patter upon 
the canvas above. The moisture, which filled the tent 
and trickled from every thing in it, did not add to the 
comfort of the situation. About twelve o'clock Shaw went 
out to stand guard amid the rain and pitchy darkness. 
When about two hours had passed, Shaw came silently 
in, and touching Henry, called to him in a low quick 
voice to come out. "What is it?" I asked. "Indians, I 



DOWN THE ARKANSAS 311 

believe," whispered Shaw; "but lie still; I'll call you if 
there's a fight." 

He and Henry went out together. I took the cover from 
my rifle, put a fresh percussion-cap upon it, and then, be- 
ing in much pain, lay down again. In about five minutes 
Shaw came in again. "All right," he said, as he lay 
down to sleep. . Henry was now standing guard in his 
place. He told me in the morning the particulars of the 
alarm. Munroe's watchful eye had discovered some dark 
objects down in the hollow, among the horses, like men 
creeping on all fours. Lying flat on their faces, he and 
Shaw crawled to the edge of the bank, and were soon con- 
vinced that these dark objects were Indians. Shaw silently 
withdrew to call Henry, and they all lay watching in the 
same position. Henry's eye is one of the best on the 
prairie. He detected after a while the true nature of the 
moving objects; they were nothing but wolves creeping 
among the horses. 

It is very singular that, when picketed near a camp, 
horses seldom show any fear of such an intrusion. The 
wolves appear to have no other object than that of gnaw- 
ing the trail-ropes of raw hide by which the animals are 
secured. Several times in the course of the journey my 
horse's trail-rope was bitten in two by these nocturnal 
visitors. 



CHAPTER XXV 

THE SETTLEMENTS 

The next day was extremely hot, and we rode from morn- 
ing till night without seeing a tree, a bush or a drop of 
water. Our horses and mules suffered much more than we, 
but as sunset approached, they pricked up their ears and 
mended their pace. "Water was not far off. When we 
came to the descent of the broad shallow valley where it 
lay, an unlooked-for sight awaited us. The stream glis- 
tened at the bottom, and along its banks were pitched a 
multitude of tents, while hundreds of cattle were feeding 
over the meadows. Bodies of troops, both horse and foot, 
and long trains of wagons, with men, women, and children, 
were moving over the opposite ridge and descending the 
broad declivity before us. These were the Mormon bat- 
talion in the service of the government, together with a 
considerable number of Missouri Volunteers. The Mor- 
mons were to be paid off in California, and they were al- 
lowed to bring with them their families and property. 
There was something very striking in the half-military, 
half-patriarchal appearance of these armed fanatics, thus 
on their way with their wives and children, to found, it 
might be, a Mormon empire in California. We were much 
more astonished than pleased at the sight before us. In 
order to find an unoccupied camping-ground, we were 
obliged to pass a quarter of a mile up the stream, and 
here we were soon beset by a swarm of Mormons and Mis- 
sourians. The United States officer in command of the 
whole came also to visit us, and remained some time at our 
camp. 

In the morning the country was covered with mist. We 

312 



THE SETTLEMENTS 313 

were always early risers, but before we were ready, the 
voices of men driving in their cattle sounded all around 
us. As we passed above their camp, we saw through the 
obscurity that the tents were falling, and the ranks rap- 
idly forming; and, mingled with the cries of women and 
children, the rolling of the Mormon drums and the clear 
blast of their trumpets sounded through the mist. 

From that time to the journey's end, we met ahnost 
every day long trains of government wagons, laden with 
stores for the troops, crawling at a snail's pace towards 
Santa Fe. 

Tete Rouge had a mortal antipathy to danger, but one 
evening he achieved an adventure more perilous than had 
befallen any man in the party. The night after we left 
the Ridge-path we encamped close to the river. At sunset 
we saw a train of wagons encamping on the trail, about 
three miles off. Though we saw them distinctly, our little 
cart, as it afterwards proved, entirely escaped their notice. 
For some days Tete Rouge had been longing for a dram of 
whiskey. So, resolving to improve the present opportu- 
nity, he mounted his horse *' James," slung his canteen 
over his shoulder, and set out in search of his favorite 
liquor. Some hours passed without his returning. We 
thought that he was lost, or perhaps that some stray 
Indian had snapped him up. While the rest fell asleep I 
remained on guard. Late at night a tremulous voice 
saluted me from the darkness, and Tete Rouge and James 
soon became visible, advancing towards the camp. Tete 
Rouge was in much agitation and big with important tid- 
ings. Sitting down on the shaft of the cart, he told the 
following story: — 

When he left the camp he had no idea, he said, how 
late it was. By the time he approached the wagoners it 
was perfectly dark; and as he saw them all sitting around 
their fires within the circle of wagons, their guns laid by 
their sides, he thought he might as well give warning of 
his approach, in order to prevent a disagreeable mistake. 
Raising his voice to the highest pitch, he screamed out in 



314 THE OREGON TRAIL 

prolonged accents, ^'camp ahoy!" This eccentric saluta- 
tion produced any thing but the desired result. Hearing 
such hideous sounds proceeding from the outer darkness, 
the wagoners thought that the whole Pawnee nation were 
about to break in and take their scalps. Up they sprang, 
staring with terror. Each man snatched his gun; some 
stood behind the wagons; some threw themselves flat on 
the ground, and in an instant twenty cocked muskets were 
leveled full at the horrified Tete Rouge, who just then 
began to be visible through the darkness. 

''Thar they come/' cried the master wagoner; "fire, fire, 
shoot that feller." 

' ' No, no ! " screamed Tete Rouge, in an ecstasy of fright ; 
^ ^ don 't fire, don 't ; I 'm a friend ; I 'm an American citizen ! ' ' 

"You're a friend, be you," cried a gruff voice from 
the wagons; "then what are you yellin' out thar for like 
a wild Injun. Come along up here if you're a man." 

"Keep your guns p'inted at him," added the master 
wagoner, "maybe he's a decoy, like." 

Tete Rouge in utter bewilderment made his approach, 
-with the gaping muzzles of the muskets still before his 
eyes. He succeeded at last in explaining his character and 
situation, and the Missourians admitted him into camp. 
He got no whiskey; but as he represented himself as a 
great invalid, and suffering much from coarse fare, they 
made up a contribution for him of rice, biscuit, and sugar 
from their own rations. 

In the morning at breakfast, Tete Rouge once more re- 
lated this story. We hardly knew how much of it to be- 
lieve, though after some cross-questioning we failed to 
discover any flaw in the narrative. Passing by the 
wagoner's camp, they confirmed Tete Rouge's account in 
every particular. 

"I wouldn't have been in that feller's place," said one 
of them, "for the biggest heap of money in Missouri." 

A day or two after, we had an adventure of another 
sort with a party of wagoners. Henry and I rode for- 
ward to hunt. After that day there was no probability 



THE SETTLEMENTS 315 

that we should meet with buffalo, and we were anxious 
to kill one, for the sake of fresh meat. They were so 
wild that we hunted all the morning in vain, but at noon 
as we approached Cow Creek ^ we saw a large band feeding 
near its margin. Cow Creek is densely lined with trees 
w^hich intercept the view beyond, and it runs, as we after- 
wards found, at the bottom of a deep trench. We ap- 
proached by riding along the bottom of a ravine. When 
we were near enough, I held the horses while Henry crept 
towards the buffalo. I saw him take his seat within 
shooting distance, prepare his rifle, and look about to se- 
lect his victim. The death of a fat cow was certain, when 
suddenly a great smoke arose from the bed of the creek 
with a rattling volley of musketry. A score of long- 
legged Missourians leaped out from among the trees and 
ran after the buffalo, who one and all took to their heels 
and vanished. These fellows had crawled up to the bed of 
the creek to within a hundred yards of the buffalo. Never 
was there a fairer chance for a shot. They were good 
marksmen ; all cracked away at one and yet not a buffalo 
fell. In fact the animal is so tenacious of life that it re- 
quires no little knowledge of anatomy to kill it, and it 
is very seldom that a novice succeeds in his first attempt 
at approaching. The balked Missourians were excessively 
mortified, especially when Henry told them that if they 
had kept quiet he would have killed meat enough in ten 
minutes to feed their whole party. Our friends, who were 
at no great distance, hearing the fusillade-, thought that 
the Indians had fired the volley for our benefit. Shaw 
came galloping on to reconnoitre and learn if we were yet 
in the land of the living. 

At Cow Creek we found the welcome novelty of ripe 
grapes and plums, which grew there in abundance. At 
the Little Arkansas,- not much farther on, we saw the last 
buffalo, a miserable old bull, roaming over the prairie 
alone and melancholy. 

1 Cow Creek flows into the Arkansas from the north. 

2 The Little Arkansas flows into the Arkansas from the north. 



316 THE OREGON TRAIL 

From this time forward the character of the country 
was changing every day. We had left behind u?=; the great 
arid deserts, meagerly covered by the tufted buffalo-grass, 
with its pale green hue, and its short shrivelled blades. 
The plains before us were carpeted with rich- herbage 
sprinkled with flowers. In place of buffalo we found 
plenty of prairie-hens, and bagged them by the dozens with- 
out leaving the trail. In three or four days we saw be- 
fore us the woods and meadows of Council Grove. ^ It 
seemed like a new sensation as we rode beneath the re- 
sounding arches of these noble woods. The trees were 
ash, oak, elm, maple, and hickory, their mighty limbs 
deeply overshadowing the path, while enormous grape-vines 
were entwined among them, purple with fruit. The shouts 
of our scattered party, and now and then the report of a 
rifle, rang through the breathless stillness of the forest. 
We rode out again with regret into the broad light of the 
open prairie. Little more than a hundred miles now sepa- 
rated us from the frontier settlements. The whole inter- 
vening country was a succession of green prairies, rising in 
broad swells and relieved by trees clustering like an oasis 
around some spring, or following the course of a stream 
along some fertile hollow. These are the prairies of the 
poet and the novelist. We had left danger behind us. 
Nothing was to be feared from the Indians of this region, 
the Sacs and Foxes, Kanzas and Osages. We had met with 
signal good fortune. Although for five months we had 
been traveling with an insufficient force through a country 
where we were at any moment liable to depredation, not 
a single animal had been stolen from us, and our only 
loss had been one old mule bitten to death by a rattle- 
snake. Three weeks after we reached the frontier, the 
Pawnees and the Comanches began a regular series of 
hostilities on the Arkansas trail, killing men and driving 
off horses. They attacked without exception, every party, 
large or small, that passed during the next six months. 

3 Council Grove is now a town of 2,500 people south of the Kansas 
River. 



THE SETTLEMENTS 317 

Diamond Spring, Rock Creek, Elder Grove, and other 
camping places besides, were passed in quick succession. 
At Rock Creek we found a train of government provision- 
Avagons under the charge of an emaciated old man in his 
seventy-first year. Some restless American devil had 
driven him into the wilderness at a time when he should 
have been seated at his fireside with his grandchildren 
on his knees. I am convinced that he never returned; 
he was complaining that night of a disease, the wasting 
effects of which upon a younger and stronger man, I 
myself had proved from severe experience. Long before 
this no doubt the wolves have howled their moonlight carni- 
val over the old man's attenuated remains. 

Not long after we came to a small trail leading to Fort 
Leavenworth, distant but one day's journey. Tete Rouge 
here took leave of us. He was anxious to go to the fort 
in order to receive payment for his valuable military ser- 
vices. So he and his horse James, after an affectionate 
farewell, set out together, with what provisions they could 
conveniently carry, including a large quantity of brown 
sugar. On a cheerless rainy evening we came to our last 
camping ground. 

In spite of the dreary rain of yesterday, there never yvas 
a brighter autumnal morning than that on which we re- 
turned to the settlements. We were passing through the 
country of the half-civilized Shawanoes. It was a beautiful 
alternation of fertile plains and groves just tinged with the 
hues of autumn, while close beneath them nestled the log- 
houses of the Indian farmers. Every field and meadow 
bespoke the exuberant fertility of the soil. The maize stood 
rustling in the wind, ripe and dry, its shining yellow ears 
thrust out between the gaping husks. Squashes and huge 
yellow pumpkins lay basking in the sun in the midst of 
their brown and shrivelled leaves. Robins and blackbirds 
flew about the fences, and every thing betokened our near 
approach to home and civilization. The forests that border 
the Missouri soon rose before us, and we entered the wide 
tract of bushes which forms their outskirts. We had passed 



318 THE OREGON TRAIL 

the same road on our outward journey in the spring, but 
its aspect was now totally changed. The young wild apple- 
trees, then flushed with their fragrant blossoms, were hung 
thickly with ruddy fruit. Tall grass grew by the road- 
side in place of tender shoots just peeping from the warm 
and oozy soil. The vines were laden with purple grapes, 
and the slender twigs of the swamp maple, then tasselled 
with their clusters of small red flowers, now hung out a 
gorgeous display of leaves stained by the frost with burn- 
ing crimson. On every side we saw tokens of maturity and 
decay where all had before been fresh and beautifuL 
"We entered the forest, checkered, as we passed along, by 
the bright spots of sunlight that fell between the open- 
ing boughs. On either side rich masses of foliage almost 
excluded the sun, though here and there its rays could 
find their way down, striking through the broad leaves 
and lighting them with a pure transparent green. Squir- 
rels barked at us from the trees; coveys of young par- 
tridges ran rustling over the fallen leaves, and the golden 
oriole, the blue-jay, and the flaming red-bird darted among 
the shadowy branches. We hailed these sights and sounds 
of beauty by no means with unmingled pleasure. Many 
and powerful as were the attractions of the settlements, 
we looked back even at that moment with eager longing 
toward the wilderness behind us. 

At length we saw the roof of a white man's dwelling 
between the opening trees. A few moments after, we were 
riding over the miserable log-bridge that led into West- 
port. Westport had beheld strange scenes, but a rougher 
looking troop than ours, with our worn equipments and 
broken-down horses, was never seen even there. We passed 
the well-remembered tavern, Boone's grocery, and old 
Vogel's dram shop, and encamped on a meadow beyond. 
Here we were soon visited by a number of people who came 
to purchase our horses and equipments. This matter dis- 
posed of, we hired a wagon and drove to Kanzas landing. 
Here we were again received under the hospitable roof of 
our old friend Colonel Chick, and seated under his porch 



THE SETTLEMENTS 319 

we looked down once more on the eddies of the Missouri. 

Deslauriers made his appearance in the morning^ 
strangely transformed by a hat, a coat, and a razor. His. 
little log-house was among the woods not far off. It seems 
he had meditated giving a ball on the occasion of his re- 
turn, and had consulted Henry Chatillon, as to whether it 
would do to invite his bourgeois. Henry expressed his en- 
tire conviction that we would not take it amiss, and the invi- 
tation was now proffered accordingly, Deslauriers adding as- 
a special inducement that Antoine Lajeunesse was to play 
the fiddle. We told him we would certainly come, but be- 
fore evening the arrival of a steamboat from Fort Leaven- 
worth prevented our being present at the expected fes- 
tivities. Deslauriers was on the rock at the landing-place,, 
waiting to take leave of us. 

''Adieu! mes bourgeois, adieu! adieu!" he cried, as the 
boat put off; "when you go another time to cle Rocky 
Montagues I will go with you; yes, I will go!" 

He accompanied this assurance by jumping about, swing- 
ing his hat, and grinning from ear to ear. As the boat 
rounded a distant point, the last object that met our eyes, 
was Deslauriers still lifting his hat and skipping about the 
rock. We had taken leave of Munroe and Jim Gurney at 
AVestport, and Henry Chatillon went down in the boat with 
us. 

The passage to St. Louis occupied eight days, during 
about a third of which time we were fast aground on sand- 
bars. We passed the steamer Amelia crowded with a roar- 
ing crew of disbanded volunteers, swearing, drinking, 
gambling and fighting. At length one evening we reached 
the crowded levee of St. Louis. Repairing to the Planters' 
House, we caused diligent search to be made for our trunks, 
which were at length discovered stowed away in the farthest 
corner of the store-room. In the morning, we hardly rec- 
ognized each other; a frock of broadcloth had supplanted 
the frock of buckskin; well-fitted trousers took the place 
of the Indian leggings, and polished boots were substituted' 
for the gaudy moccasins. 



320 THE OREGON TRAIL 

On the evening before our departure, Henry Chatillon 
came to our rooms at the Planters' House to take leave 
of us. No one who met him in the streets of St. Louis 
would have taken him for a hunter fresh from the Rocky 
Mountains. He was very neatly and simpl}^ dressed in a 
suit of dark cloth ; for although since his sixteenth year he 
liad scarcely been for a, month together among the abodes 
of men, he had a native good taste which always led him 
to pay a great attention to his personal appearance. His 
tall athletic figure with its easy flexible motions appeared 
to advantage in his present dress ; and his fine face, though 
roughened by a thousand storms, was not at all out of 
keeping with it. We took leave of him with regret; and 
unless his changing features, as he shook us by the hand, 
belied him, the feeling on his part was no less than on ours. 
Shaw had given him a horse at Westport. My rifle, which 
he had always been fond of using, is now in his hands, 
and perhaps at this moment its sharp voice is startling 
the echoes of the Rocky Mountains. On the next morn- 
ing we left town, and after a fortnight of railroads and 
steamboats, saw once more the familiar features of home. 



THE END 



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One copy del. to Cat. Div. 

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